Ignition
by galahadquandary
Summary: Primeverse AU. All Ratchet wanted was a vacation, a visit with the kids, and some time to himself. He finds out a terrible truth instead.
1. Chapter 1: Unprecedented

_-Primeverse AU set where **Predacons Rising** didn't happen; Cybertron was just fixed with the Allspark without any interference. Ratchet had left with everyone else and advised Unit E remotely.-_

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Unprecedented**

A short vacation away from the political and physical mess of rebuilding Cybertron and a chance to clear his head was all Ratchet had wanted this trip to be. Visit Earth, see the kids, and return home after a few days with sharper focus. Instead, he'd come across a new problem to agonize over, and one -he realized with dread- he should have prevented years prior.

But he hadn't. Now the situation was infinitely worse off than it should have ever been allowed to get.

He sat on the berth in the dark hangar, ringing his servos together as he recalled everything that brought him to this night. The mech kept cycling through the memories time and time again, trying to see if there was a clue or missing piece that could fix it all. If there was, it kept eluding him.

 _The first time it happened, it'd looked like a glitch._

 _A few Earth days after the events of restoring both Optimus and the Matrix, a weak Cybertronian signature caught his attention. He'd been doing a system overview in the hangar, just to make sure that there were no cracks in the code to be exploited or any other faults when the blip on the radar made itself known._

 _The medic had scrutinized the screens and the equipment, pulling up new windows to see if he could locate the source in Jasper but it vanished as soon as it'd appeared. He'd vented a sharp huff, then had the computers run a quick diagnostic._

 _Nothing, they were in perfect working order._

 _Ratchet dismissed it all with a roll of his optics. Without a signal, there was little more he could do other than note that it happened. It'd been so brief and weak that there likely wouldn't be any residual traces either, and with so much else to focus on, he didn't feel that this was a matter worth everyone's attention. Primus, this was barely worth his notice even now._

 _The Decepticons were up to something new, and they needed to be prepared._

 _The second time it appeared was shortly after Smokescreen had joined in their ranks. For a moment the new signature looked like it'd been overlaid with another, indicating that two different signals were occupying the same space -something usually only seen when Minicons could integrate themselves with larger Cybertronians. But that made no sense here, Smokescreen didn't have a companion. Ratchet was trying to decode just what this was, attempting to call the younger mech when the blip vanished._

 _Later that evening Smokescreen denied seeing or coming across any other Cybertronians, he'd just been hanging out with Jack after getting off on the wrong foot a few days earlier. The elder 'bot just grunted in reply. Perhaps it was because Smokescreen's unique signature wasn't fully recognized or integrated into the system yet? It was the most likely theory._

 _The last time he'd seen it, it'd only been him and the children in the base. It'd been one of the rarer, slower days where nothing of too much importance beyond routine drills and recon procedures happened. Things were slow, comfortable, and this time, he was prepared._

 _Just as it'd done before, a weak reading was picked up and put on the screen, showing its location to be within the concrete walls of the base's interior. Acting quickly, Ratchet put the base into lockdown with a few strokes of the keyboard. 'I don't know how it got in, but it's certainly not getting out!'_

" _Stay here," he'd shouted as he'd rushed by the confused children, Miko calling after him in protest. 'If something's here, I have to be the one to protect them!' He immediately commed his leader. ::Optimus, we might have a situation!::_

 _::Ratchet? What is the matter?:: The reply sounded both surprised and anxious._

 _::There's an unidentified Cybertronian energy signature inside the base. I put it all on lockdown, the kids are safe, but they haven't been told about the danger. I don't want them to panic.:: The red and white mech went on as he trekked the halls. ::But I can't seem to find anything!::_

 _::Groundbridge us back, we will help you search.:: An urgent undertone ran through the Prime's words._

 _::Thank you.:: The medic felt relief as he made his way back through the darkened tunnels, eventually coming to the console again._

" _What is it? What's going on?" Jack asked from where he sat on the couch, Rafael curled up next to him._

" _Yeah, what's the big idea turning off the lights and running around in the dark?" Miko quipped._

" _Just a quick maintenance check," he lied poorly._

" _Don't you need power for that?" The girl narrowed her eyes, not buying his answer._

" _Not for what I needed to check; if it was on and I stuck a servo inside, it probably would have gotten ripped off." He hoped that was a more convincing argument._

 _He flipped a few emergency switches and brought the machines back online, summoning the groundbridge in seconds. A crackling spiral of green and white opened, and the portal allowed the other Autobots to enter in. Ratchet gave the screens a furtive look, 'still there. Good.'_

 _All the bots spoke over their comms, not voicing their anxieties or questions aloud, and only exchanging pleasantries with the kids -all of whom were none the wiser. Prime issued the orders in rapid succession: Bumblebee and Bulkhead were to stay and act as protection for the humans, while Arcee and Smokescreen tried to flush the intruder out towards either Wheeljack, Ultra Magnus, or himself. Ratchet would watch the monitor and silently radio the others about the intruder's whereabouts. They agreed, then went about their tasks easily. No one acted out of the ordinary, a seamless operation taking place as they found their stations within the bunker's concrete walls._

 _::Has it moved yet?:: Wheeljack sounded eager for a fight._

 _The medic discreetly pulled up the layout of the base, enhanced it, and pinpointed the room where it should be. 'No,' he thought as confusion swarmed his processors. ::It says it's here with Bulkhead, Bumblebee, and I.::_

 _::But there's nothing here!:: Bulkhead glanced around the room while the scout beside him flexed his doorwings nervously._

 _::Is it invisible?:: Arcee pressed. ::Do you think you can get a thermal view of the room?::_

 _::Hold on.:: Ratchet typed quickly, pulling up an overhead view of the room and saw-_

' _Scrap, not again! We almost had it.' He lowered his optics at the keyboard. ::There's nothing here, the signal's gone.::_

 _::Are you sure?:: Optimus was hesitant to relax._

 _::Positive, it's not on any of the maps anymore.::_

 _::So this was a false alarm?:: Ultra Magnus flippantly prodded._

 _::It appears so. I'm sorry for making such a fuss.::_

 _::It is better to be safe, Ratchet.:: The Prime assured, and everyone broke off to go about their private duties._

 _The medic turned off the screens he'd pulled up, grinding his denta in frustration and embarrassment. He'd look at them later, maybe there was something fortelling its abrupt exit._

' _Later' hadn't come until earlier today, years after the last event. Since he'd been prompted to take a break on Earth to escape the stress, Ratchet wanted to make a quick stop to see the children. It would do him some good to relax in their company and swap stories for a while before resting and returning back home. That way not only could he see for himself just how everyone was doing, but he could bring back any news for the others. He knew Bulkhead was definitely going to ask about Miko, and Bee had already made him promise to say 'hi' to Rafael for him. Arcee didn't speak her wishes, but she shared a look with the medic and he understood._

 _They missed them. Everyone did, even Ultra Magnus seemed as if he was expecting an outburst or two from one of their smaller companions every time they all collected together at the end of the day. And despite Ratchet's insistence otherwise, sometimes the quiet of Cybertron greatly unnerved him; Earth felt lived in, bubbling with comfortable energy and atmosphere, whereas his home planet…_

 _Even though progress on rebuilding it was going smoothly, and refugees were finally arriving, it was mostly barren and isolated. Cities once bursting with civilians and colors now stood empty, desolate, and desecrated. It felt cold, some places looking and feeling like nothing had changed at all. When there were people, they were scared, or they argued, and some even demanded power or refused help._

 _It was a mess._

 _One too many arguments with an injured mech had caused Optimus to come forward and tell Ratchet to take a break. "Only to clear your head," the Prime had assured him. "Why not visit Earth?"_

 _So here he was, on a world that was his home away from home, and feeling better already._

 _At least, that how it'd been in the beginning of the night._

 _It began pleasantly, everyone had agreed to meet the old 'bot in the hangar they'd used for a secondary base after their first home had been destroyed. He hadn't been back within Unit E's walls since that day where he'd left with the other Autobots for the revitalization effort on Cybertron, although he was in touch with the humans almost every other day. Yet seeing them again, Primus, it was far better than just hearing their voices via transmission._

 _June wasn't present when he arrived, and neither was Fowler. They'd both been assigned work that night, though the mech had a hunch they just wanted to give everyone some private time._

 _Rafael was doing quite well, attending schooling for engineering and computer science. He'd grown significantly, though he was still a bit shorter than the others. He was as bright-eyed and cheerful as ever, nearly glowing with elation. It was a joke among the Autobots that Raf acted like an excited Sparkling at times, and sure enough, he was doing so. It was incredibly endearing._

 _Miko, in order to stay in America for both school and Unit E, had gone out to California for an art degree, and her technique had greatly improved! She had many tales of strange events and people she'd met while in the program, as well as many new music suggestions and samples for Bulkhead. Ratchet was grateful her enthusiasm was so contagious, he'd missed her spirited sense of self confidence, and even her noisy demeanor._

 _Jack, on the other hand, worried him. He didn't talk much, content to let his friends lead the conversation, and only chimed in occasionally. When he did speak, the mech was too fixated on how exhausted the boy looked, or how pale his color had become. He wasn't healthy, and it was a far cry from the calm, confident nature he'd possessed before. He was clearly trying to save face, as if he wasn't as badly off as the medic suspected he was, which only made the mech more anxious._

 _Nevertheless, it was great to be there with all of them. As the evening ticked on by, the conversation eventually died down. Raf left first, then Miko, but before the last of the trio could follow suit, Ratchet couldn't help asking for him to stay a bit longer so he could get to the bottom of it all._

" _Jack, are you feeling well?" He kept his voice soft, not wanting to seem overbearing. "You were really quiet."_

" _Honestly, I don't know," the young man sighed. "I've been to the doctors a lot lately, and they can't figure out what's wrong. Some say it's nothing, others say it's everything from insomnia to heartburn." He shrugged, "I'm not really sure what's going on, I just don't feel 'right.'"_

" _Perhaps I can help." The medic's arm plating shifted, and a small scanner emerged._

" _Sure," Jack gave an exasperated grin as a small flicker of light danced over him. "I don't think you're going to find anything though, I've already undergone an MRI and a CAT scan."_

 _Ratchet didn't respond, he was too stunned to look anywhere besides the readings on the screen embedded into his arm. Something in his memory clicked, and he then frantically pulled up the image from years ago, comparing the results. "This shouldn't be possible," he rapsed._

" _Okay, now you're scaring me," Jack crossed his arms over his chest defensively. "What's wrong?"_

 _Ratchet looked down at the human, then back at the results._

 _In the image from years before, when he'd said that there wasn't another Cybertronian life signal in the room, he was wrong._

' _By the Allspark.'_

 _There was a minute trace of a signature coming from the boy, one he'd missed in his rush to find a much larger intruder. And the scan he'd just taken confirmed it, only now, it was far stronger than ever before, and it looked like it was going to continue to grow._

 _Jackson Darby had a Spark, and it was killing him from the inside out._

 _He didn't take the news well._

" _That's crazy! How could this even be possible?"_

" _I'm not sure," the Autobot paused, trying to recall anything that would help. And then it hit him. "The first time," dread filled his tanks. "The first time I thought I saw something was just after your visit to Cybertron and Vector Sigma," his optics widened in horrified realization. "You were with Smokescreen the night I thought he encountered an unidentified Cybertronian, you were in the room when I thought we had an intruder in the base!" He studied the youth before him, "all this time, it was you."_

 _That gave them both pause, and eventually the human spoke first. "But that was years ago, how could I have had a Spark all this time? And how could that have even happened at all?! Humans aren't supposed to have these!" He absentmindedly rubbed his chest with a hand, if the pained expression he wore was any indication, the source of the problem was acting up again._

" _I cannot say for certain, but exposure to some of the most powerful forces on Cybertron may have left its mark." The medic looked at the screens again, "if it's any consolation, it looks to be extremely healthy."_

" _Unlike the rest of me," the boy countered dryly._

" _I didn't mea-"_

" _It's okay," he shook his head. "So, what happens now? Am I going to die?" His voice sounded as small as he must have felt._

 _Ratchet didn't have an answer._

He still didn't, even hours later. Only a few things were clear at the moment: _Jack was dying, and he'd been dying for years._ The mech knew he never should have left with the others, he would have noticed the signs earlier if he'd been consulting Unit E on the ground! Surely he would have been able to do something far sooner! They might have been able to fix this! What _could_ he do _now_? If the humans' technology wasn't capable of even picking up a Spark's signal, then what hope did they have at removing it? And should they even remove it? Sparks were the essence of one's entire being, removing it could kill Jack just as easily as letting it continue to mature. Yet if they didn't, it'd just keep worsening the boy's condition.

' _What can I do? I'm not sure I can fix this.'_

He untangled his servos, dropping them into his lap with a sullen, clanging noise, then rose to his pedes, slowly walking over to the console. ' _I need to tell them.'_

 _::Ratchet to Autobot base: is anyone there?::_

 _::Ratchet? Aren't you supposed to be relaxing?::_

 _::That'll come soon, Smokescreen.::_ The medic heard faint voices in the background on the other's side. _::Who else is with you?::_

 _::Everyone, you actually called at a pretty good time. Why?::_

' _Pits,' he thought somberly. 'Well, at least I'll only have to explain this once.'_

 _::Hey is everything okay down there?::_

Ratchet was thankful that the long-distance communications didn't have live video screens for once. _::Jack's dying.::_

Everyone went silent, save for Optimus.

 _::Ratchet, explain.::_

* * *

Jack didn't sleep well that night, not that such a thing was unusual for him anymore. He stared at the ceiling of his room blankly, thoughts spiraling out of control as he laid in his bed. He'd had a feeling that things were bad, but this? Jack'd faced his mortality before many times, but back then he'd had the Autobots' help. Some childish, small part of him had believed that they could not be harmed, that they were indomitable. But as the war dragged on and the battles grew more intense, it became obvious that no one was safe.

' _I'm going to die!'_

Not even Optimus.

' _What am I going to tell mom?'_

And he'd gone to Vector Sigma to bring him back.

' _How's she going to take this?'_

And now it may have ended up costing him his life.

' _Does it even matter?'_

His hand was at his chest, rubbing the sore spot that'd started this entire nightmare. One doctor had said he might have heart damage, and now he wished that was the case. At least then it'd be a human heart in a human body, and there were ways to heal and fix it. But this? This was unheard of, unimaginable, _impossible._

' _Impossible, like how aliens weren't supposed to exist. And how their wars weren't supposed to exist, or traveling the galaxy in a split-second.'_

It figured that if all the other impossible things could happen to him, then this would as well.

He turned over, now lying on his chest which ached in protest. He tried to slow his breathing, every breath burning slightly. Bit by bit he relaxed, warmth replacing the pain and radiating outward, all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes. It'd been a comforting feeling when this happened many times before, but now, the knowledge of what this was and what it was doing to him robbed it of that effect.

His cellphone suddenly buzzed, catching him by surprise. He jumped, a spike of pain running through him from the reaction. Jack gingerly reached for the offending device, trying his best to not cause another attack. He turned it on, and a message displayed itself on the screen.

' _You're going to be alright. We have a plan, we're going to make this right.'_

He squeezed his phone slightly, resisting the urge to cry. It would agitate his chest, and only make it feel worse.

Eventually he succumbed to sleep, the phone still in his hand.

* * *

Of all the phenomena of Earth, Ratchet thought sunrises were the most beautiful. He sat in his alt mode, parked in an open field as the warm rays of light spread over the sleeping terrain, waking it up for a new day. As he watched, he sent out two messages: a promise to Jack, and a prayer to Primus.

' _Help us, please.'_


	2. Chapter 2: Unravel

Ratchet's gaze kept flicking back and forth as he wandered into the darkened ruins of the abandoned lab, countless remnants of past failed projects littering the cracked floor. He hated this place and he wouldn't have dared step foot into the former Decepticon lair under normal circumstances, yet this situation demanded nothing less of him.

This was the only lead he had, and desperation was a strong motivator.

He stepped neatly around the debris, swords at the ready in case anything so much as twitched. Nothing had so far, but that did little to appease his anxiety.

" _You're paranoid," Smokescreen had jokingly told him once._

" _When you've seen as much as I have, you'll find that having extra caution keeps you alive," the medic retorted without looking up from his work._

He hadn't been completely sure in that claim at the time, it was just something to give the rookie to think about. Yet now those words rang quite true.

A sharp clatter up ahead drew the mech's focus and he raised his weapons. In the inadequate light, he saw two blue optics shining out from the dark. Stepping out with her hands raised, Arcee spoke calmly. "Easy Ratchet, it's just me."

He lowered his blades with a shuddering vent. "My apologies."

"It's fine, I don't like being here either," she relaxed her posture, though she still kept scanning the room for possible threats. "I found a working terminal up ahead, think you can get through the 'Cons' old security protocols?"

' _Do I have a choice?'_ He thought bitterly. "I should be able to. Hopefully Shockwave's notes can be of some use."

The two-wheeler nodded in agreement, her mouth a hard line set with determination. The medic knew she was counting on him, it's why she came all the way from Cybertron.

 _There had been no response after he'd explained everything, only a claustrophobic silence that stretched too long for both sides' liking. The medic gripped the sides of the console, leaning on it to help remain upright as he awaited any reaction from the those on the other side of the comm line. He'd sent the images and scans, the data he had found, along with what the normal bio-signatures of the humans had looked like in the past. Anyone with a working processor would understand the rapid decline of the boy's health, and how much damage was already done._

 _They were just as stunned about the problem as he was, if not more._

 _::I'm coming to Earth.:: Arcee's voice was cold with familiar anger. ::If Jack's in danger then I have to help.::_

 _::But, what can we do?:: Smokescreen sounded hurt. ::It's not li-::_

 _::There has to be something!:: She snapped over the line._

 _::Enough!:: Ultra Magnus halted the shouting before it could escalate._

 _There was another brief pause, then Bumblebee finally chimed in. ::Didn't Shockwave experiment on organic life?::_

 _::Bee!:: Bulkhead began to reprimand the scout._

 _::No, that's not what I was getting at! I mean, do you think we could find one of his labs? Maybe he found something that could help.::_

 _::It's possible.:: Ratchet admitted. ::But I don't know of any such location. .::_

 _::Well, we might know someone who does.:: Wheeljack's smirk was audible in his tone._

 _The old 'bot stayed on the comm line as few of the others went to interrogate Knockout. Arcee had been granted permission to leave and accompany the medic as backup, so she departed to prepare. The remaining voices dwindled away slowly, and for a third time that evening, the call was silent._

 _::Are you okay, old friend?:: Optimus said gravely._

 _::I should have been here to prevent this.:: The medic dared glance at the images of the boy's deterioration he had on display of the console. ::This is all my fault.::_

 _::No, I fear the fault is my own.:: The Prime rumbled low. ::Had I not chosen him to go to Vector Sigma, this would not have occurred at all.::_

 _::Optimus, you and I both know that he would have volunteered to go even if you hadn't chosen him. Without the journey, we may have lost you for good.::_

 _The Prime only hummed in response, and his friend knew he wasn't content with the answer._

 _It wasn't long before the coordinates for a possible location was retrieved and entered into the system. Ratchet took to the road as quickly as he could, meeting up with Arcee at the site._

The computer was the only thing lighting up the room when the pair of bots entered, its dull purple glow wavering slightly every few seconds. The white and red mech walked over to the terminal while the blue femme stood guard for any hint of danger. He went to work instantly, decrypting files, opening work logs and study reports, searching for anything that could be helpful and downloading what he could salvage.

There were tons of folders on energon-induced organic decay and how Cybertronian radiation could poison organic life in moderate doses, all of which included images, videos, or diagrams of the process. The Decepticon scientist was thorough and had thousands of documented trials.

It all made Ratchet sick. Worse still was that he'd have to look through it all in closer detail once it was copied.

' _Primus, how could someone do this?'_

He'd known of a few who'd done unethical trials before, but far from anything like this. This was systematic, tortuous, and from what he could tell at a cursory glance, it all ended in death.

That didn't bode well for Jack.

"Any luck?" Arcee's question pulled the mech from his thought spiral.

"There's such a wealth of research here it'll take days to go through all of it thoroughly," he huffed. "Not that much of it inspires hope at this moment."

"Wouldn't expect it to," she snarked. "But there has to be something we can use."

"Primus help us if there isn't."

The pair waited in silence as the download finished, both trying to ignore the bleak outcomes that might surface. This _needed_ to work. If the research couldn't lead them to a cure or other solution, then their friend was going to die. Neither wanted another tally to be added to the death toll.

As soon as the task was completed, they left the lab and raced back out into the open plains to hail for a groundbridge.

The rippling portal tore into the air not a moment later, allowing the bots passage back to the government-issued hangar. Fowler was at the console, and shut the gateway when both bots were safely inside.

"I'd hoped that next time I saw you, it'd be under better circumstances," the man addressed them with a weathered smile. He'd been briefed on their mission, and had come as quickly as he could. If the bags under his eyes were any indication, he'd woken up in the middle of the night to come help them.

"At least the entire world's not ending," Arcee retorted in kind.

' _Still kind of feels like it though.'_ The thought came unbidden to the Ratchet's processor. Even after all these vorns of countless combats and rescues, the idea of another loss still scared him. Especially when it came to children. ' _Get a hold of yourself, you haven't lost yet! You still have time!'_ Doubt still rattled around in his tanks.

As the official and two-wheeler shared a terse conversation, the mech set himself to work. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Jack was roused from sleep by the sound of something clattering to the floor. His head snapped up, glancing around the living room before finding the culprit: the TV remote. He stared at it blankly as his brain caught up with him.

He fell asleep on the couch. Again.

' _This sucks. I can't fall asleep when I'm supposed to, and now I can't stay awake.'_ Nothing seemed to be going right lately.

He pushed himself up from his resting place with a soft groan and made his way to the kitchen. He didn't feel hungry, but maybe eating something would at least give him enough energy to remain awake until his mom got home.

' _Mom.'_ Oh frag, he hadn't told her yet. How could he? ' _Hey mom, I'm dying because apparently I've got a weird alien heart that's been killing me slowly from the inside.'_ He'd barely had the heart to tell her when he'd gotten bad grades in middle school, but something like this? She'd lose it, and Jack couldn't bear the thought of putting her through that kind of stress! The past few months had been so hard enough on them both.

 _He'd all but dropped out of his engineering degree because he couldn't make it to class; he'd been put on academic probation due to absences from his worsening condition. While the students and faculty had all been sympathetic, the administration hadn't been as kind. He'd asked if there were ways he could make up the classes online, but as most of the work was practical and meant to be done in the class under the supervision of the instructors, there was little he could do. Even with all of his scholarships, the financial blow was still massive._

 _After being sent home, he'd resigned himself to helping around the house as much as possible. He wasn't able to stand as long as needed for a shift at his old job, and they didn't want someone with a mysterious illness serving food._

 _June'd started taking on extra shifts, doing whatever she could to help them both get by. He hated seeing her so worn down by everything, so he took care of the house for her. That way his mom didn't have to worry about coming home to any sort of mess. It was the least he could do, yet some days, it was all he could manage before exhaustion set in. To think that a few years ago he could go entire days on strenuous missions and outrun giant aliens, but now he was lucky if he could vacuum the first floor of his house in an afternoon._

' _This is pathetic.'_ He scolded himself mentally as he poured a bowl of cereal and sat down at the table with a defeated sigh. It was a bland, 'healthy' brand, but it was also the only thing he'd been able to keep down recently. He slowly picked away at the bowl's contents when the sound of an engine caught his attention.

It came from the garage.

Jack glanced at the clock. Even with an early shift, his mom wasn't due home for a few hours.

A familiar voice called out his name.

The boy abandoned his bowl and rushed to the garage, ignoring the sudden pain that flared in his chest. He threw the door open, nearly tripping in his rush to greet the sudden visitor.

"Arcee!"

"Good to see you too," she was in vehicle mode, parked in the middle of the small space. 'Sadie' was perched atop her back, facing towards him. Even though she didn't have eyes in this form, he could feel her staring at him.

"You look-"

"Like shit?" He offered. "It's, uh, it's been rough."

"Well," the holoform dissipated. "Feel good enough to go for a ride and catch up? Don't worry, we can go slow," the 'bot assured.

For what felt like the first time in a long while, he smiled. "Yeah, that sounds fun."

* * *

As Ratchet combed through the files, he was left with more questions than when he originally started searching. His optics were narrowed at the display screen in the hangar. It blankly kept projecting the information, no changes appeared.

It was infuriating.

"None of the symptoms match." He ground his denta together.

In most cases where Shockwave had exposed animals or people to the effects of energon, the results were far more extreme. As when Raf had been infected by dark energon, the degeneration of organic tissue was nearly instantaneous. Human nervous systems began breaking down quickly, unable to cope with the sheer intensity of the energy that invaded them. Nerve endings and transmitters were fried, seizures and convulsions were common. It looked like they were being disintegrated. Most subjects never made it past a week.

Those subjected to radiation exposure didn't fare much better, often having their bodies start failing in a few days. Lesions and profuse bleeding occured as their forms were poisoned by the foreign energy. Their bodies simply could not hold themselves together after a while.

Jack had a Spark; a concentrated mass of energy had been housed in his chest for over two years. His nervous system was functional. He was unhealthy, but compared to what the Decepticon test subjects went through, he was in much better condition. His systems were stressed, weakened, and struggling, but he was still there. _He was still alive._

If the medic had followed Shockwave's research to its natural conclusion, the boy should have been dead years ago. Primus, he should have displayed any symptoms within a few days after visiting Vector Sigma!

"What is going on?" The medic kept comparing the files over and over, but nothing seemed to yield any results. The boy's condition was as if he had a different ailment entirely. That shouldn't be the case, and yet the data argued otherwise. ' _He's not acting like he's been poisoned,'_ he noted as he brought up another subject's file: one who suffered radiation similar to that of a Cybertronian Spark. They'd lasted three days.

He flicked his optics back to the readings of the alien heart residing in the boy's body. ' _It's healthy, but the rest of him is acting almost like he's been starved.'_

He took a few steps back from the console, bringing a servo up to his helm in frustration.

The affliction wasn't making sense! There was no resemblance to the issues those humans had under Shockwave's ministrations. ' _It's almost like a protoform rejecting a Spark.'_ The mech vaguely recalled a few cases he'd studied before the war. Sometimes Sparks were too strong for the fragile frames to contain, and it'd destroy them from the-

 _'Wait.'_ He turned off the data from Shockwave's lab, instead searching from something in his own archive: old records of a dying Sparkling, one of the few he could not save in his earlier tenure as a physician.

 _It matched._ "By the Allspark! How did I not see it?"

Ratchet turned off all the human readings of Jack's files, only leaving up the diagnostics of the Cybertronian elements. _It was a textbook case of protoform burnout._ He'd been so focused on the aspect of Jack's biology that he mistook the problem for what it was! His Spark was trying to synchronize and integrate into a protoform _that was not there_ ; it was in a container far too weak to hold or provide for it. It was unsustainable, no wonder the boy looked so drained!

Whenever this had happened on Cybertron, there were two possible outcomes; either the Spark would burn itself out, destroying its shell along with it, or it could be stabilized. The latter was much more difficult, as what helped stabilize the collapsing Spark varied from case to case. Sometimes the protoform needed to be reinforced, other instances required energon transference.

But _this_ wasn't like any of those seen before. Jack was dying because he was _human_ , and it was a miracle he wasn't dead from the radiation already. Removing the Spark would kill him. Leaving it there would do no better.

The mech was back to square one.

' _Pits. If he were Cybertronian there'd be a way, but this? There is nothing I can do to save a human with a Spark.'_ Ratchet didn't know what to make of this, nor did he suspect anyone else on Cybertron would either. He'd made an effort to learn human medicine years ago, and they had no way to comprehend something as severe as this.

There were no solutions.

It was almost as if he was trying to fix an act of Primus himself.

The sentiment struck him. ' _What if-'_

An alert from the comm link sounded, and the medic shook away his frayed thoughts. Maybe Smokescreen was right, maybe he _was_ paranoid. There was just no way-

 _::Go for Ratchet.::_

 _::Old friend.::_ The Prime's voice was thick with guilt. _::I have come upon a disquieting revelation.::_

The mech felt the energon in his veins freeze.

* * *

The desert air felt pleasant as the pair raced along the barren road. Although it wasn't nearly as fast as they'd once gone, it was still an exhilarating ride out in the open country. The warm sun and brisk breeze was a welcomed change from the stagnant air of the house, and Arcee's company only made the excursion better. It was nice.

"I've missed this so much," he laughed. It stung a little to do so, but he felt too good to care.

"Me too," the scout agreed as she pulled off road, next to one of the mesas dotting the horizon.

Jack got off as she came to a stop and she transformed, standing beside him as the sun started to dip lower in the sky.

"Forgot how beautiful this place is," she smiled softly.

"Don't you have sunsets on Cybertron?"

"They're different," she rolled her optics, but grimaced a bit when they came to rest on him.

He pretended not to feel hurt.

"So how is it back home? Everything going smoothly? No 'Cons?"

"It's about as smooth a transition as we can get," there was an underlying note of bitterness. "A lot of the refugees are scared, no matter what side they were on. We're all trying to rebuild, but it's hard to trust some of them. Some wounds take a long time to heal."

"Ah," he nodded. He should have guessed it'd be hard to put aside all the tension between the formerly warring factions. After all, he supposed he couldn't totally trust anyone if he'd known they shot at his friends earlier.

' _Live and let live'_ didn't always work.

"I hope it gets better, you guys deserve to happy after all you've done."

"We _all_ do," she knelt down, leveling her gaze at him.

 _'Frag.'_ He knew that tone in her voice well.

"We're all worried about you. Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

"I didn't know what it was," he stared at the ground. "I wasn't sure what was going on, and besides, I can't bug you over every little thing that goes wrong in my life, Arcee."

She vented a soft sigh, turning back to watch the setting sun.

They spent the next few minutes in a soothing silence, watching the colors spill over the red rocks and plains until the sky was filled with blooms of purple and blue. As the first few stars started twinkling in the sky, Jack broke the peace. "I should probably be getting back home, mom's going to be back soon."

The femme hummed in assent, switching back into her alt mode. In a practiced motion, he got on her back, and they made their way onto the road.

As they wound their way back through the plains, the boy began to feel hot under his helmet. He tried ignoring it at first, but his vision started to blur. He couldn't breathe. Was he breathing? Why was he so hot? He tried to speak. He coughed. He was too warm.

His grip on the handlebars slackened slightly, and he thought he heard Arcee speak but he couldn't make out what she was saying.

His chest hurt.

He let go.

He fell.

She screamed.


	3. Chapter 3: Unexpected

The vague, yellow lights were turned low enough to barely differentiate the consoles and stations from one another. The dull hum of the machinery a soft white noise that ebbed and flowed in the open space. Rain danced on the roof outside, adding another layer to the soft ambience. For the first time that day, the hangar was peaceful. Ratchet could almost forget about the terrible situation that the past few days had revealed.

 _Almost._

Reminders of the issue were situated opposite him. A boy lying still on a cot, and his mother sitting beside him. Jack was badly scraped up and bruised from his fall, the lacerations hastily stitched up by the military base medical staff. It pained the medic how fragile he looked, all wrapped up in gauze and the blankets. He was sleeping now, though he hadn't been fully lucid for hours, which worried the mech greatly.

June was resting her head against her hands, mumbling softly to herself. He hadn't envisioned her as much of a praying woman, but he supposed he was never much of a sentimental 'bot either before the war had started. He hadn't really put stock into much of the mysticism of the old legends or artifacts either until he'd witnessed their powers firsthand.

He knew she was asking for a miracle, one to remedy things in a way he could not. After all, she was not a fan of the plan he and Optimus had settled upon.

He wasn't too sure of it himself.

 _::There've certainly been times I've questioned your judgement, but this? Of all the brazen ideas? This may erase every scrap of hope left for him!:: The old 'bot was bewildered by the new proposition. ::In theory it can work, but there's no guarantee at all! It's never been tested or controlled in this way!::_

 _::You are right to be wary, however I suspect further inaction would only allow matters to escalate.:: The Prime chose his words carefully. ::I too have reservations, yet I cannot abide by them any longer.::_

 _::Optimus, we're talking about changing his nature. Who's to say whether or not he can survive such a thing?::_

 _::He will.::_

 _The conviction in those words stunned him. ::Then I'll try.::_

 _They'd ended the call there, each side knowing what had to be done._

"Ratchet," the mech almost didn't notice the whisper. He shook away his intrusive thoughts and focused on the source of the sound.

"Can you please explain it to me one more time?" June looked up at him from where she sat, a tired desperation etched into her features.

The medic nodded, moving to one of the consoles as quietly as he could. "Optimus uncovered one of Shockwave's labs hidden on Cybertron," his servos moved deftly over the keyboards as he spoke. "We believe he used this one to help clone the Predacon." A screen displaying the genetic coding process flickered to life before him. "His notes of refining and stabilizing uncoded CNA were all there."

She eyed the projections warily, "but what does that have to do with saving Jack?"

He couldn't fault her for her misgivings. "Ms. Darby, I now have the full formula to synthesize Cybermatter," he stated patiently. "It can-"

"I know, I know," she sighed, obviously unhappy with the answer. The woman's fingers carded through her son's hair, detangling the strands. "Isn't there a way to save him-" she searched for the right words, "-as he is?"

A sinking weight settled in the mech's tanks. ' _Carriers,'_ he inwardly winced. "Unfortunately, there is not. The radiation from his Spark is destroying him on a cellular level. No amount of transfusions or transplants can save him, and his body won't be strong enough to endure those surgeries or recover fully." He hated the way she shrunk at his words. "If there were anything else we could have done," he wasn't sure how to finish the statement. It had never been easy to tell a Sire or Carrier that their Sparkling might not survive. With humans it was even harder.

"So now the solution is to save the thing that caused this." She sniffed, tears free-falling down her face. "That's the part I don't understand. Why save something that's killing him? Why does _that_ get the chance to live on?" Her voice broke, "I don't get it. It's like saving someone's cancer, or preserving a disease."

"Because it is as much _Jack_ as the rest of him," Ratchet kept his voice low and steady. "Unlike human hearts, our Sparks encompass all of who we are." It felt strange to reduce the concept to such a level, but she needed comfort, not a lesson in Cybertronian biology. " If we save _it_ , we save _him_."

She swallowed nervously, "okay."

He knew she didn't accept it. In a very tangible way, she was still losing her son. He would not fully be hers anymore.

Pity welled in his Spark, "June, I am so sorry." He wished it hadn't come to this. It was awful seeing two of the most steadfast people he'd met on this planet reduced to such lows. Neither of them deserved this.

 _No one_ deserved this.

"I know," she raised her head to look the medic in his optics.

He knelt down on one knee, keeping the eye contact. "By the Spark of Primus himself, I promise you we will take good care of him."

"I don't want to say goodbye." She gripped Jack's shoulder lightly, "he's all I've got." June wiped her face with her free hand. "I knew I'd have to some day, but not like this."

Ratchet didn't know how to respond. Bedside manners had never been his strong suit. In war, he had to be stoic and practical when dealing with emotional patients or their grieving squadrons. Sacrifices were common, _death_ was normal. ' _Not here though, not like this.'_

"He's not going to die, June," he said as gently as he could.

"Part of him is."

"Only the outside."

She raised her face to him again. "You better be right." She gave him a strained smile.

He nodded. ' _May the Allspark take me if I'm not.'_ "You need your rest too."

With that, she reluctantly headed into one of the hangar's attached rooms, shutting the door silently behind her.

* * *

Jack didn't want to be awake, he'd rather crawl back under the veil of sleep and be spared from the aches that permeated all of his joints. Yet he'd started to wake up, and despite his best efforts, he could not fall back asleep.

' _Shit.' Everything_ hurt. He didn't dare move beyond opening his eyes, trying to recognize his surroundings.

' _The hangar? How'd I get here?'_ Hadn't he just been out with Arcee? He couldn't see the two-wheeler anywhere among the machines. She hadn't just left him there, had she? No, that wasn't like her.

He tried to raise his head from the pillow, but a sharp pain in his neck stopped him. ' _Nope, okay, no moving.'_ That was a bad sign. Just what had happened? Why did _everything_ feel like it was on fire? Even breathing was uncomfortable, more so than it had been the past few weeks.

Familiar heavy footsteps sounded off to his right. "How are you feeling?" Ratchet's voice seemed louder than usual.

"Terrible," the youth grumbled. "How'd I get here?"

"Arcee called for a groundbridge when you fell."

' _Oh.'_ That's right. He'd let go. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine," the mech assured. "She's been helping around the base since she got back."

' _Keeping herself busy,'_ Jack thought. He'd have to talk to her about it later, though he knew she was going to use her mom voice on-

' _Mom.'_ Oh man, she was going to be angry with him. ' _The one time I crash on a motorcycle and it's not even because of a Decepticon attack.'_ At least he'd had his helmet. "Does my mom know I'm here?"

"Yes, she's in there," the medic pointed towards one of the doors on the upper level of the hangar. "But if you don't mind, I'd like to speak to you alone."

"Uh, sure?" He didn't like way the other had said that.

"Do you remember when we fired the Omega Lock?"

"I don't think I could ever forget something like that," he chuckled nervously.

"That same material that restored Cybertron, we can use it to help you."

"Wait," the boy adjusted himself on the cot, sitting up now despite the protests of his limbs. Vertigo made his head spin, but he tried his best to keep himself centered. He stared directly at the mech, who didn't immediately meet his gaze. "Didn't Optimus say that stuff destroyed organic life?"

"We theorize that-"

"Theorize? I'm human, that stuff sho-"

"Jack," the medic pleaded softly. "You have a Spark. You haven't _been_ fully human for a while." He paused, his servos flexing as if he could physically pull the words out of the air. "We theorize your new biological matrix would synchronize with the purpose of the Cybermatter, and you'd survive."

The youth made no sound, too dumbfounded to speak.

' _They're offering to make me a robot?'_ His mind sputtered.

"But it's your decision," the mech added. "If you choose to not undergo the process, I can't say I'd blame you."

"How long would I have without it?" He needed to hear all of his options, he couldn't just decide to not be human anymore. Surely there was some other option.

"Less than a month."

Jack felt like he'd been punched. "How soon could this, what, surgery? Process? How long would that take?"

Ratchet looked at the display panel on his arm, "all things considered, I could synthesize the Cybermatter in a few days now that I have the entire formula for it. As for how long it would take, well," he turned to the boy again. "An hour at most; I can't imagine the process would exceed anything longer than that when entire buildings can be erected in a matter of minutes."

"Are these really my only options?"

"They are," the mech vented.

' _Oh my God.'_ What should he say? "Can I have some time to think about this?"

"Of course," the medic gave him a sympathetic half-smile, and left the part of the hangar the boy occupied.

Jack wanted to throw up. ' _First I was dying, now I have a month to live unless I give up my humanity,'_ his mind felt electrified. The choice was obvious, if he wanted to live then he should do it. Yet that meant losing a huge piece of himself, a cornerstone of who he was. ' _How did this become my life?'_

As much as he and the others had joked about a scenario similar to this when the Autobots weren't present, he never thought he'd have to face it as a possible reality.

" _If I was a 'bot, I'd be a Wrecker for sure," Miko'd once said with confidence. "What do you think you'd be?"_

" _I've always wanted to go flying," Raf'd mentioned as he typed. "Maybe a jet. What do they call them? Seekers?"_

" _Like 'Screamy?" The girl jibed, "don't you want to be a scout like Bumblebee?"_

" _It's not that, it's who else might also be on the road," the boy sheepishly shrugged. "Some of my brothers drive, and I'd prefer being as far away as possible."_

" _Road rage, gotcha." Jack'd snickered._

" _So how 'bout you?" Miko'd rounded on him._

" _Honestly? I have no idea."_

He still didn't have a clue.

' _I might be figuring it out soon enough though.'_ He didn't know how he felt about it. Changing was different for the Autobots, probably for the whole of Cybertron. But for him? ' _Well, that doesn't matter much now, does it.'_ Warmth bloomed in his chest, and he took a deep breath.

"Let's do it," he whispered into the open air. "Ratchet," he called out, getting a hum in response. "I'll do it."

* * *

"Dude! You've been dying this entire time?!" Miko's voice exploded out of his laptop's speakers.

 _Jack'd been sent back to Jasper for his last few days, he and his mom spending some quality time together before his 'operation.' This way Ratchet had all the time and quiet he needed to focus. Besides, the boy didn't want to be stuck on the military base and annoy the medic or get in the way of the personnel there._

 _He and his mom had mostly been taking care of personal matters, trying to figure out how they'd move on. Neither was sure what was going to happen, but they'd manage. It was what they did best._

 _The day before he'd be going back, he finally gathered enough courage to call his friends and tell them what was going on._

"I'm sorry." He looked back and forth between the pair displayed on the video call. "It's been chaotic."

"You're lucky I can't stay mad at a dead man," she flopped back in her chair.

"So you're sure this'll work?" Raf raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, if it doesn't you're dead anyways," Miko uttered sarcastically.

Jack shrugged, "she's right."

Raf removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, "I don't like this."

"Me neither."

"Trust me, I know," the youth agreed.

"But you're going to be fine, right? Just different?" The youngest of the trio spoke, "it's not like we'll never see you again, it'll probably just be weird for a while before we get used to it."

"I guess?"

"Oh man," Miko pointed at the screen. "If you're big enough to give rides, I call dibs on the first one."

"Miko!" Raf was agape.

Jack laughed, "oh my God, Miko."

"What? It's the least you can do for dumping the fact that you're dying and going into a sci-fi surgery on us at the last minute!" She crossed her arms.

"Yeah, that's fair."

"So then," the bespectacled boy began. "Can I get a ride too?"

Jack laughed again, harder this time. It was nice to talk to them, why had he been so afraid to do it?

The rest of the call was more mundane, the others just filling him in on the minutiae of their lives, school, or anything else they could think of. It was relaxing to not feel like he was under a microscope or being picked at, just trading banter back and forth. Miko had a new kitten who was determined to destroy her paintbrushes. Raf was certain one of his professors actually ran some of the conspiracy theory websites they'd gone and scrubbed through a few years back.

He'd barely noticed how much time had passed before his mom was knocking at his door.

"Ah, yeah, curfew." Jack snickered. "I gotta get sleep."

"Oh, well, goodnight and good luck!" Raf waved and signed off.

"Hey," Miko said softly. "You remember what I told you that night you tried to quit Team Prime?"

Jack looked the screen, "yeah, I think about it a lot."

"Me too," she replied evenly. "I still stand by it." She smiled at the camera, "next time I see you, you better be picking me up for a joyride."

He chuckled, "alright, it's a deal. Thanks, Miko, goodnight."

"G'night bro," she flashed him a peace sign and left the call.

For a moment, Jack saw his own face reflected on the screen of his laptop. It was strange to think that this might not be looking back at him the next time he saw his reflection. He set it aside, glancing around his room. ' _I might never come back here again.'_

He wasn't sure whether it was stranger that the thought had come to him at all, or that he wasn't scared by it anymore.

Miko's old words echoed in the back of his head as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

He could not count how many times he'd pulled someone back from the brink of oblivion. During each attempt there was still a thrill of fear in the back of his processor, but he'd steady his hands and operate to the best of his ability. He'd weld, cut, repair, and replace what he could, all in the hope that it'd work.

This time was different, he'd be a bystander.

Ratchet looked at the large, silvery tank of Cybermatter before him, its glistening surface shifting and rippling in hypnotic patterns. He'd ended up making much more than he needed, but he supposed anything unused could be utilized elsewhere once this was over. After all, this tank was connected to another empty container. Once his readings indicated that the Cyberforming process was complete, he'd drain the contents from one side into the other.

It was simple.

It was _frightening._

It was all they had.

' _Push him in and hope for the best,'_ he'd known the plan was stupid. Yet he'd run the calculations, synthesized everything according to the formula, and rechecked everything hundreds of times. His part was complete, it was now up to fate. ' _He's going to be fine,'_ he kept trying to convince himself. ' _If Optimus and his uncanny intuition are convinced, then surely there shouldn't be anything to worry about.'_ Common sense and his experience argued otherwise, but he couldn't afford to indulge his doubt anymore.

They were doing this.

' _Primus, please let this work.'_

The mech paced around the hangar, anxiously awaiting Jack's arrival. When the boy did arrive, it was unceremonious and awkward. He looked at the tanks nervously, "do I just jump in?"

"Hold on," the medic knelt and connected his sensors to the signals Jack's Spark was emitting. "There, now you can."

"Wait, seriously? That's it?"

"Yup."

"That's really all there is to it?"

"I don't care for it either," he admitted. "Yet that _is_ how the process works."

"Oh."

The 'bot almost chuckled at the bemused expression on the boy's face as he made his way to the platform. As he stood looking into the pool, he nervously flicked his eyes back up at the mech.

Jack dove in.

He couldn't see him in the tank, so Ratchet turned his head towards the monitors. ' _He'll be okay. He's been through worse. He's held the Matrix. He can get through this.'_ He kept the chant going in his processor, slowly convincing himself of its validity.

* * *

 _Jack hadn't expected to feel much of anything at all, but staring into the pool made him freeze. His instincts wanted him to stay rooted to that spot on the edge, away from the shining substance, but he had to force himself to ignore it._

 _This was a last-ditch effort. He had to try._

' _If this doesn't work, I'm dead anyways,' he mentally paraphrased Miko's statement from last night. He then recalled her other words, ones that helped prompt him into action on more than one occasion._

" _You were born to do so much more."_

 _He'd spared a glance at Ratchet, then steeled his nerves. 'Time to see if she was right.'_

 _He jumped in._

 _For a second, it felt like he was stuck in freefall._

 _It didn't feel like water._

 _It was warm, comforting, an odd familiarity to it._

 _A strange mix of contradictory sensations hit him simultaneously: the lack of air in his lungs but feeling like he could still breathe, a numbness that electrified his nerves, his limbs feeling both compressed and pulled, and Something That Was Not Him encroaching on his consciousness._

 _He should have been panicking._

 _That felt like too much effort._

 _It didn't hurt._

 _He felt parts of himself drift away, the last bits of his attention fading._

 _He was vaguely was aware of voices._

 _Maybe he was dying after all._

 _It felt nice._

 _Warm._

 _Like a hug._

* * *

"So how long has he been in there?" Arcee eyed the tanks suspiciously as she strode into the hangar.

"Over five hours," Ratchet didn't look away from the monitors, his servos flexing and curling unconsciously. He was antsy, ready for this to be over. "All the readings suggest he's fine."

The femme hummed thoughtfully as she approached his side, "any ideas as to how he'll be afterwards?"

He finally tore his gaze away from the computer terminal. "A Minicon, most likely," he replied with a slight shrug. "Although I'm less certain now that so much time has passed."

She crossed her arms with a coy smile, "really? Jack. _A Minicon._ " A sharp laugh escaped her, "we _are_ talking about the same kid, right?"

He rolled his optics, "I'm being realistic. It's of the same relative size-"

She raised an optic ridge skeptically. "Remember the last time we had this conversation?"

"We were speaking in hypotheticals," he huffed.

"I still agree with Ultra Magnus," she teased.

Ratchet shook his helm, "we shall see."

A beeping from the monitor ripped his attention away from the burgeoning argument. ' _It's over.'_ He quickly initiated the draining process, then walked up to the platform to look inside the emptied tank.

"By the Allspark."

He'd been expecting a Minicon, not a full-size Mech.


	4. Chapter 4: Ignition

Apologies for the late update, this chapter underwent several rewrites and I had to draw the reference being used for the cover.

* * *

Routine patient diagnostics were a task he'd always found to be oddly soothing. The procedure was clear and had multiple contingencies in case sub-systems had poor readings or failed to respond at all. If there was an issue, he could find both it and the answer in a matter of a few minutes. There were no wires to cross or cut, only a thorough scan and basic overview of any sub-routines.

After the stress of the past few days, the monotony of the check-up was a welcomed change.

Ratchet's servos clicked away at the keys on the console, drafting a new file for the mechling in recharge on the medical berth. Part of him still struggled to fathom that it was _Jack,_ but there was no disputing the data he'd received thus far.

The Spark that'd been a burgeoning light a few hours beforehand had matured greatly, now integrated into a form that could house it properly. It was still juvenile, but it was thriving, and the signal was emanating from the new form. While he was certainly no Sparkling, he was far from being considered an adult.

He studied the former-human as he finished creating the data spreads, recalling the conversation that Arcee'd mentioned earlier.

 _The work had been especially grueling that solar cycle; everything from the continued construction to scouting out sectors looking for traces of Starscream, Shockwave, or the Predacon had been arduous. The Vehicon workers kept bumbling and damaging materials, setting back just as much progress as they made. The other team felt like they were wasting time driving in circles, unable to get so much as a whiff of the Decepticons' trail._

 _Ultra Magnus and Optimus were trying to keep the returning refugees calm, which was a managerial and logistical nightmare. The only operation that seemed to be getting anywhere at all were the patrols sent out to find energon deposits. The restoration of their planet had revitalized the supply, but now they faced a new problem: refining the found material without any of the necessary equipment._

 _The incoming ships also brought challenges once their passengers unloaded. Old rivals were bumping into each other and starting fights -or attempting to finish pre-existing ones. There seemed to be a never-ending line outside of the small station Ratchet had set up as an impromptu medical center._

 _It was too much._

 _They'd been decompressing in their base of operations. The refurbished military facility was barren, debris still littering the corners in some of the rooms, but it was structurally sound and enough to call home for the time being._

 _Almost everyone was in the open chamber they used for relaxing when Bulkhead mentioned how much he missed his little Wrecker._

" _Who, Miko?" Bumblebee asked._

" _Who else?" The green mech answered._

" _She never struck me as much of a Wrecker." Smokescreen chimed in._

" _That's because you never saw her in action the way we have," Wheeljack grinned. "Trust me, if the girl was a 'bot, she'd definitely be wrecking with the best of us."_

 _There were hums and grunts of assent, no one could find enough reason to argue. Besides, with her loud and bombastic personality, being a Wrecker just made sense for the girl. Heavy-framed femmes weren't too common, yet it was hard to envision such a bold character as hers with anything less._

 _The group was sharing a good laugh about the absurdity of the topic when Bumblebee quietly mentioned that he'd always sort of imagined his charge as a two-wheeler; quick, lithe, but built more for intelligence operations than out on the battlefield. Another consensus was reached, it was easy to picture him as a data scribe or record keeper working for one of the libraries before the war, zipping between the shelves or delivering the requested records to those who'd asked for them. Besides, no one liked the idea of such a timid figure being sent into battle._

" _Not that two-wheelers can't hold their own," the black and yellow mech turned to Arcee with a smile, which she returned. "So," he continued. "What do you think Jack'd be?"_

"' _Dunno," she shrugged easily. "He's definitely a fighter though."_

" _You sure about that?" Wheeljack rolled his optics, "the kid always seemed too cautious to me."_

" _Nah, he could totally be a scout," Smokescreen interjected._

" _Stealth isn't really his thing," the femme thought aloud. "So scouting wouldn't suit him at all. Probably a guard, or some sort of enforcer."_

 _Ratchet scoffed and rolled his optics with a chuckle._

" _What's going on?" Ultra Magnus' voice called into the room as he approached the small gathering. He was clearly weary from his own work that day, his footsteps unusually sluggish._

" _Trying to figure out what the kids would be like if they were 'bots," the blue and gold mech replied. "Can't figure out what Jack'd be. You got a guess?"_

 _Smokescreen failed to notice the looks of mild horror and embarrassment on the faces of the other Autobots present._

 _The general paused, bemused by their reactions and the conversation. "He's a knight," he said decisively, as if this was the most obvious answer. "It wasn't a common warrior class, even before the war, but he certainly acts like the few I've had the pleasure of working with." He stared down at his pedes, a somber smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "All of them were diligent fighters, but reserved, authoritative." His optics were distant for a moment, then they flashed back into focus. "Most of them were assigned to squads to make sure everyone else got out alive."_

 _A heavy implication weighed in the air. 'They usually didn't come back.'_

" _Never seen him charge into a fight," Wheeljack shrugged._

" _Does he hesitate to offer rescue?" Ultra Magnus countered._

 _No one offered a rebuttal._

 _He gave the Wrecker a knowing smirk. "That's the difference."_

Ratchet hadn't offered his own input at the time, but he had to admit that while he might not have given credence to the class assessment the second-in-command had given, he did agree with the broad characteristics he gave the boy's character. Jack had always been the quiet, deliberate one of the kids, and though he did not embody the brazen will of a fully-realized warrior, the medic had to admit that he had an edge to his attitude. It was a rare sight, only invoked when the wellbeing of others were at stake, but he'd be foolish to call the boy passive.

However the mechling in front of him now wasn't a build he was familiar with at all, and though he was certainly not a one to classify others by their frames, it did help when he could look a 'bot over and at least get a rough understanding of their frame's functions and limitations. Yet this build didn't lean too much into any category, nor did he seem specialized enough to fit into a distinct sub-class or specific purpose.

Jack looked sturdy, armored consistently throughout his frame. While his chassis was certainly the most well defended, his limbs were not lacking in their own armor by any means. His shoulders were broad, a detail usually assigned to mechs of a heavier build, and his upper legs were reinforced in a similar manner -yet he was shapely. The layers of blue and silver metal almost gave him a regal appearance. His helm was rather _unique_ , a single form that surrounded the face and branched off into two short spines. It was strange to see components from different classes blended together on one form, yet it _worked_.

Ratchet vented a sharp huff. Whatever he was, the boy looked forged to _survive,_ and he thought that was fitting.

' _Well, time to wake him up.'_

He moved over to the berth and gently shook the new mechling's shoulder. The form twitched, bright blue optics cracking open to squint in the light of the military hangar.

"Ratchet?"

The medic felt like a hand was constricting around his Spark. It was so startling to hear the familiar voice come out of a figure so drastically different than the one he'd associated with the sound. "How are you feeling?" He forced himself to ask the question. He needed to remain calm. There was no need to make the boy panic or uncomfortable when he'd survived switching species. ' _It's just like running a diagnostic on one of the others,'_ he reminded himself.

"I feel weird," the former-human rasped. His servos flexed and curled against the metal table, then his pedes shifted back and forth slightly. "Nothing hurts though." He gave a weak smile.

"Good," the white and red mech nodded his helm as he went to retrieve a diagnostic tool. "Your internal systems should be calibrating right now, so you might experience some slight numbness, dizziness, or mild discomfort if you try moving too quickly." He returned with the device and held it up in his servo; the small gray box had two long cords attached. Ratchet plugged one into his own wrist, and he moved back over to the silver and blue mech.

"I need to give you a systems check," he explained as he took one of the boy's servos in his own and turned it over to find the small port on the underside of his wrist. He glanced up to meet the startlingly bright optics looking at him. "It might feel strange, but it shouldn't hurt. If it does, tell me, and we can try again later."

"Okay," came the answer after a brief pause.

The medic attached the other cord and went right to work.

The boy's primary systems were fine, most working at optimal levels and those that weren't were just finishing their final warm up protocols before coming online fully. The secondary and tertiary functions followed suit; he was completely healthy, just disoriented as the new programs started up for the first time. His T-Cog was fully functional, all base readings normal. The only discovery he came across were active weapon systems; it was unusual for the newly forged to have any such protocols from the beginning. ' _He's been in war,'_ the medic reasoned.

Everything else was completely unremarkable. Within moments, the check-up was finished, and both cables were unplugged.

"There, all done," he stood up, running the results through to the screen on his arm so he could enter them into his data-log on the main console.

"That was so weird," Jack vented. "It was like you were in my head."

"Hardly," he laughed. "That was just a typical check-up. I suppose it'll take some getting used to," he conceded as he began the transfer. "It was only good news though. Your motor systems should be finished initializing and allow you to move in a few minutes."

"Okay," the other replied.

A few minutes went by as the older 'bot typed quietly at the console.

"Hey Ratchet?"

The medic hummed in response.

"Do you know what I turn into?"

He paused his typing, surprised by the question. "Alt-modes aren't pre-programmed, Jack, even on Cybertron we had to scan something or have the schematics uploaded at a later date. That being said, you're definitely ground-based." It was rather obvious from the lack of larger wings or fins, but seeing as the mechling still wasn't acclimated to his current state, the medic guessed he likely wouldn't have been able to tell until he'd regained his full faculties.

"Oh," came the quiet reply as the other shuttered his optics. "Thank goodness."

Now the mech was curious. "Is something the matter?"

"I don't like heights," he admitted. "And at least I know how to drive a car, and road laws. I don't know anything about flying."

' _He's afraid of heights?'_ He hadn't expected that, not when he was used to seeing the boy on raised platforms or riding in his own or Optimus' hands. "Well, I suppose if you want to pick out a vehicle later, we might find out if you've got any other restrictions. If anything's too big or too small, you'll be able to tell intuitively."

The blue and silver mech grunted, looking like he might fall back into a state of recharge.

"I know you're tired, but you have to stay awake," Ratchet vented. "If you don't, the calibrations will reset and have to start all over again the next time you try and wake up."

He received a withered groan in reply, but Jack's optics remained open. "Where's Arcee?"

"She's busy helping Fowler. She left after helping me get you onto the berth." He chuckled, "It was quite a struggle, I'd expected you to be a Minicon."

The former-human turned his head, "a 'Con? Really? After all we've been through?"

"No, a _Minicon_. They're small Cybertronians that are about the size of humans," the medic understood the confusion immediately. "They're named after Micronus Prime."

He resisted the urge to chuckle at the look of reverie on the new 'bot's face.

"Wait, how tall am I?"

He didn't quite understand, but then it clicked. ' _Heights,'_ the mech grimaced. "Hard to say with you lying down, but I'd say you're roughly my size." He gave Jack a critical glance, "likely taller."

"Nope," the boy shuttered his optics again. "No thanks."

"We can't exactly change this."

There was a beat of silence.

"Mom always said that dad was tall, so," the dry remark came. "This might as well happen."

Ratchet cracked a smile, "I doubt this is what she meant."

"Not even close."

"If it makes you feel any better, you're about average height by our standards."

The mechling snickered, "if I end up being taller than Smokescreen, I'm not going to hear the end of it."

"What?"

"You never saw him tease 'Bee?"

"No, can't say I saw too much of that at all."

"They messed with each other all the time! Geez, half of their sparing was trash-talk, at least, from what I was able to tell."

"I must have been a little busy," the doctor said flatly. "Trying to prevent Earth from being taken over by the Decepticons was quite a consuming task."

"True," he slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position, only to slip back down. "Still, it was pretty funny. They acted like brothers."

"There's only a few orns difference between them age wise," the mech shrugged. "I'm not all that surprised. If anything it explains why you three got along so well. Though, I must admit," he raised a brow-ridge. "Each of you certainly have your own varying levels of maturity.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He feigned offense, breaking the facade with a smirk.

The medic scoffed, "mechlings."

"Mechlings?" Jack snickered at the word, "there's no way that's a thing."

Ratchet pointed at him, "you're one now."

The former-human blanched.

The mech crossed his arms and rolled his optics. This was too much fun.

* * *

The cityscapes of Cybertron were dormant, their metallic surfaces gleaming in the night. Such a sight was something he'd dreamed of for vorns, yet now, it felt hollow.

Intangible.

Optimus Prime stood stoic in the dark, optics staring at the horizon towards a world galaxies away. He hadn't heard anything from Ratchet, and anxiety was eating away at his processor like a horde of starving Scraplets. Yet for all of the grief it caused, it was nothing compared to the heavy burden of guilt weighing upon his Spark.

 _He did this._

 _This was his fault._

Although many would argue against him, he knew this was the truth. It was his decision to entrust the boy with the key to Vector Sigma, permanently altering his fate. Yet even before that, there were other signs he should have acknowledged. However the fog of war was thick on Earth, and once again, he'd allowed his judgement to be obscured.

He knew his old friend was right. Had he made another choice, their desperate bid against Unicron and Megatron might not have succeeded, but the realm of possibility was a haunting one.

His thoughts were circular, repeating the events that had brought them all to the crux of the moment and the peril he'd put his young human ally in. He vented softly, allowing them to replay once again.

 _From the instant he'd met Jackson Darby, he'd known he was not the same as the other children._

 _At first he'd pondered whether or not this was because of the boy's inherent caution when compared to the other charges; Miko and Raf were lively, excited, and always ready go forth out into the world in pursuit of an adventure. They had a naivety matched only by the folly of young Sparklings before the war had started, an eagerness to witness what the world had to offer and how they could find their place in it. It always brought fond memories of peace to mind when the mech would see them out of the corner of his optics, though lingering regrets still found their way into his thoughts._

 _Yet the eldest charge did not elicit the same reaction, nor did he have the same exuberant energy that the others possessed. Instead he was still young, restless, but a quiet strength belied his temperament. A piece of the boy was hardened, guarded. And he was_ kind _anyway. It'd seemed counter-intuitive, so the Prime had waited, watched, even advised and scolded, and was surprised to behold the teenager take his words to heart._

 _Jackson was not the same kind of light that his friends were._

 _They were joy, and laughter, and the ferocious, untouched arrogance of youth and possibility._

 _Jack was a smoldering fire on the precipice of either going out or bursting into a brilliant blaze._

 _All he'd needed was a push._

 _One that had come when the Matrix had started resonating with him._

 _It had started as a gentle tug, one that would prod at his Spark when the boy was in close proximity._

 _When he'd realized what was happening, the Prime had paid even closer attention to the youth's actions. He'd been relieved to see him acting more responsible, though there was trepidation as well._

 _If the Matrix and the wisdom inside it was drawn to another, then there must have been a reason._

 _When Unicron had begun to rise, it was clear why._

 _With such a great threat looming over them, Optimus chose to trust the choice of his predecessors. He'd entrusted the Key to the unsuspecting youth, he'd lied to him about its nature._

 _In that moment, he'd marked him to become more than what he was._

 _Though his memories of being Orion Pax again were vague once he'd been restored to normal, his visions of what happened at Vector Sigma were all too clear._

 _Jack had come._

 _He'd retrieved the Matrix._

 _And when he touched the reloaded key, the embers of his being ignited._

 _Optimus mourned briefly, a part of him acknowledging that he'd stolen the boy's path away from him. His bonds to those before him were filled with a myriad of different feelings._

 _Approval was chief among them._

 _He'd kept it a secret as time progressed, guilt gnawing at him in the rare spells of quiet that fell between the attacks or raids of the Decepticons and their conflict. He wished he could undo it, but answering a greater call was in the boy's nature. Whenever he questioned himself for too long, he would receive a quiet push from the Matrix. The soft gesture silenced his fears, and he'd move on to the next task._

 _Then the charges were captured for ransom, their planet on the verge of destruction._

 _They were willing to die._

 _Optimus refused to damn another human._

 _So he acted._

 _And with the Omega Lock gone, he'd damned his remaining people instead._

 _He hated it._

 _Yet they needed to keep going._

 _So he did._

 _And he sent them away._

 _And then, he'd died._

 _Alpha Trion had assured him that there was a worthy candidate to bear the Matrix nearby. While he did not question Smokescreen's potential, he was hesitant to leave with so much else left unfinished._

 _How could he?_

 _Thankfully, the young mech did not allow him to go and become one with the AllSpark._

 _And a new battle began._

 _Old allies returned, and new enemies rose up to face them._

 _And they'd prevailed._

 _And Cybertron was born anew._

 _The goal he'd had for vorns was finally achieved. His home was alive again, the Well of AllSparks restored, and the war was over._

 _With this accomplishment, he'd forgotten his connection to the boy through the Matrix._

 _Until he started dying._

 _So he'd sent Ratchet back to Earth._

 _And they'd found a solution. The only one that he was sure would work._

 _For he was not the one who suggested it._

 _And if those before him had confidence in it, if they had chosen this youth for something greater, he knew that this would not be the end._

 _It was only the beginning._

 _Another transformation._

 _The ignition of a flame._

"Sir!"

The sharp shout pulled the Prime from his thoughts. He turned to find Ultra Magnus approaching him, "is there something I can assist you with?"

"We're receiving a call from Earth," the general explained with a small smile. "I thought you'd like to be present for it."

Relief and anxiety dueled in his Spark, "of course."

As they walked to their temporary command center, he tried to settle his thoughts. He knew Jack was alive, he'd felt the tepid Spark's sudden flare of strength earlier. Yet the part of him that wasn't just a Prime wondered what pieces of the boy had survived.

The soft push from the Matrix returned to dampen his doubts.


	5. Chapter 5: Egress

**Chapter 5: Egress**

* * *

' _This is actually real.'_

Jack sat upright on the medical berth, staring at his hands in the dim pre-dawn light that filtered through the few windows in the military hangar. He flexed and curled each finger, turning his servos this way and that, mystified that the metallic appendages responded in the exact same fashion his flesh and bone once had only a day prior. He put his middle digits against his thumbs, then snapped his fingers. Small sparks resulted from the friction of the metal scraping against itself, a subtle metallic ring permeating the air. He had the same number of digits and joints as he always did, and while he took comfort in that fact, he also had to admit that it was strange to not have fingernails anymore.

Not that he'd been particularly attached to having them in the first place, but they were just _gone_ now. It hadn't been something he'd thought of before, but now staring at the places they _should be_ and _not_ seeing any trace that they'd ever been there before… It didn't make sense.

' _Like not having individual toes,'_ he glanced towards his feet, shifting them around somewhat. Again his physical and mental perspectives clashed.

' _It feels the same. It shouldn't but…'_

A part of his mind still failed to fathom that this was anything more than a dream or hallucination. Almost as if he'd wake up and be in his normal body, in his bed, in his house, and he'd have another day of aches to suffer through. Yet the majority of him was grounded, as if this new form wasn't anything special or different. After all, how could it be when it felt this _familiar_?

It was all so _new_.

It was _mundane_.

He knew he shouldn't have towered over Arcee when he managed to sit up, and he certainly should not have been above eye-level with Ratchet, nevertheless he _was_. He hadn't been a few hours ago, but now it felt _natural_. He should have been disturbed by the clarity of his senses; everything from his vision, sense of smell, and his hearing felt like it'd been super-charged. The world seemed like a filter had been removed and he was only now witnessing everything as it really was. However his body seemed to default back on the notion that no, this was, in fact, completely normal, even if he was completely sure that each sensation was inexplicably altered.

The dissonance was surreal.

 _He was human._

 _He was not._

His bright gaze flicked towards where Ratchet and Arcee were sleeping in the opposite end of the hangar, both in their alt modes. He focused on the motorcycle, knowing the two-wheeler was deep in recharge; his time with her had taught him to understand when she was alert in her secondary form, and even though it was dark, he could clearly tell she was resting. Something about her just seemed _dormant,_ or _peaceful_ , like how she had been some afternoons in his garage all those years ago. Sometimes she'd drift off after particularly stressful days as Jack shared sparse, light conversation with her. He'd always noticed how the air seemed more calm when she relaxed, and for some reason, he got that same feeling now, but much stronger.

Shifting his eyes to the ambulance, he wasn't so sure about the medic. Something in his gut said that the mech was watching him closely. Jack never really saw Ratchet in this form often, but he'd swear the headlights would brighten a bit whenever he moved too much. It was why he hadn't moved from the berth even though he really wanted to stretch his legs.

A simmering tension permeated the air and rose when he fidgeted too much.

Hopefully he could walk now, his last attempt hadn't been successful.

" _Good to see you back in the realm of the living," Ratchet snarked as Jack'd finally roused from his sleep. He was back at his terminal, typing up endless streams of data while occasionally glancing over._

 _The blue and silver mech sat up, dizziness making the world spin for a brief moment. He wanted to throw up, but he forced himself not to give into the nausea. He wasn't sure if Cybertronians could do that, nor did he want to find out. "God, I feel terrible."_

" _Wouldn't doubt it, calibrations always take some getting used to," the medic shrugged. "Though I must admit, I hadn't expected you to be so talkative while they were underway."_

" _I was awake?"_

" _Awake, but not fully aware," he explained with a wry grin. "I believe a human equivalent would be when someone is affected by anesthesia."_

 _Horror slowly flooded the new mech's mind, "I didn't say anything too embarrassing, did I?"_

" _I'd say it was more entertaining than anything else."_

" _Oh no."_

" _Don't worry, those secrets stay with me."_

 _Jack relaxed a bit at that, "promise?"_

" _Promise."_

 _Fears allayed, he vented -only to be surprised at the way the sigh felt. Air moved through the multiple pathways evenly, a soft whooshing as it escaped the hidden exits along his body. He glanced downwards at his knees, try to determine where one of those openings were among the metallic plating._

" _It's where you had hamstrings," Ratchet noted aloud as he paused typing, sparing the boy a look-over before returning to his work. "Vents clear out the joints, trying to keep debris out so that limbs can properly fold, twist, and, well, you get the idea."_

" _Oh, that, uh, actually makes sense."_

" _Of course," the medic rolled his optics. "When a large portion of your life is dedicated to the movement of plating, and switching between root and alt modes, everything needs to be perfect to function. We might be made of metal, but our species evolved these features over time, just as any other life adapts along their own courses of evolution. But," he once again stopped his work, and turned fully to face the young mech. "We also still require medics."_

" _And thank goodness for that."_

 _The older 'bot gave a soft chuckle._

 _Jack shifted, sitting with his legs over the side of the berth, and looking down at the floor. 'God, I used to look up at this thing,' he thought absently._

" _I wouldn't try walking just yet," Ratchet warned._

" _Uh, why?"_

" _Ever stand too fast and lose your equilibrium?"_

" _Yes."_

" _Now, have you done that from this height? Or, can you imagine that on this scale?"_

 _The thought of crashing down onto the hard concrete made the new mech's insides feel like they'd been frozen, "nope, no thank you."_

" _Your frame isn't used to your weight yet," the red and white mech walked over to his side and put a steady hand on his shoulder. "You can try to stand, but we take it slow, alright?"_

" _Alright," he agreed. Bit by bit he lowered his pedes to the floor, feeling Ratchet adjust his servo on his arm. The medic's grip was surprisingly strong, though not uncomfortable. Jack wondered if he was being overly cautious. Once his feet were solidly on the floor, he pushed up from the edge of the berth to stand._

 _He immediately fell, held up only by the older mech's support. Another wave of nausea hit him as he felt himself hoisted back onto the berth. The world seemed to spin for a moment before resettling. "Okay, that sucks."_

 _"Which is why we take it slow. We can try again later, your systems are likely still fine-tuning everything. However, I'd hesitate to put too much pressure on a new frame right away; you risk damaging it, which could lead to far greater stress or complications during the later stages of maturity."_

 _The mechling groaned at the idea of being bed-ridden again. "Isn't it a skeleton though? I should be able to stand at least."_

" _Jack," Ratchet released him arm. "I mean this in the most ca-"_

" _Your frame is softer because you're a kid," Arcee's voice cut through the air with a laugh as she slipped into the hangar. "You're basically a child in a suit of armor that you can't quite carry yet."_

 _If he'd still been human, Jack knew his cheeks would have flushed with indignation. "Ouch," he said. "Tell me how you really feel."_

 _The femme simply walked over with a shrug and a grin._

" _She's not being facetious, though, a little more tact would have been more appropriate," Ratchet vented with a pointed glare. "Jack, we have centuries to quite literally grow into these forms and sizes. You did this in a couple of hours, I'm not surprised that even a simple action might be too much."_

" _I'm not going to be stuck sitting down for a hundred years, am I?"_

" _No," the medic glanced over at the scrawling data on the screen he'd been working on. "Perhaps in the next few hours? I'm unsure as this has not happened before, so I'd been attempting to calculate a time table based upon how long everything has taken so far."_

" _So that's why you needed the quiet," Arcee murmured. "No wonder you sent me out."_

 _The youngest stared at the screen, a vague part of mind trying to grasp at the glyphs and data to make sense of it all. Some characters were recognizable but most were a wash of Cybertronian symbols. "Why would you need a time table?"_

" _Realistically, just to be aware of what to expect. Usually Sparklings and younger Cybertronians have certain milestones or features that help denote their age or personal level of development. Some are faster than others, some are much slower, but it's similar to why your physicians here would keep track of similar data for their patients. So far, everything's as expected, well, more or less."_

" _And what does that mean?" The femme pressed, shifting to face the medic._

" _Jack has active weapons systems."_

" _How?" She sounded stumped. "Even I hadn't had those until I was tr-"_

" _I don't know," Ratchet cut in and threw up one of his hands. "Thus I was trying to figure out the time-table."_

" _Is having those bad?"_

" _Not necessarily, but we will need to be cautious."_

From there the pair had excused themselves to discuss further, and left the young mech to himself. The last few hours had passed with fitful sleep -or recharge, as it was apparently now called. He found it difficult to relax and so rest was not easily achieved.

But he was bored, tired of sitting around and doing nothing; it'd been his life for the past few months at home, and he didn't want to keep up that streak now that he was here. Ugh, why couldn't he even walk?

Jack drummed his digits lightly against the surface of the berth, a quiet metallic tone responding at each touch. He missed how quiet his fingertips were when doing this. The light sound punctuated the silence in the hangar as morning crept through the windows, spilling grey light onto the floor. After a moment he stopped and shuttered his optics, focusing on navigating his own internal systems. If he was going to live like this, he might as well get used to it.

The feeling was akin to forcing yourself to breathe manually, suddenly becoming aware of a bodily function and then try to replicate it. The familiarity with how he went through everything was a bit unsettling. This was his first time doing so, and he was notoriously bad with computers, yet he was easily gliding through sub-systems and his own internal routes as if he'd been doing it all his life.

' _What the hell.'_

He shuddered a bit, caught between his instincts and his mind actively screaming that this was both the most routine and the weirdest thing he'd done in his life.

He looked through basic data, surprised to find that most of the information was coded in Cybertronian script. Great, he couldn't even read what he found. So he tried to access diagrams, a few propagating at the thought. He still didn't quite know what they meant, but at least it was a start. Pictures, at least, made a little bit of sense.

The one thing he couldn't find were his weapons, or anything hinting that they were there at all. He searched his systems again, and they never appeared.

' _Active systems my ass.'_ He thought. ' _Wait.'_

Active.

 _Active._

What had Raf told him? You can toggle between active and inactive, right? Maybe…

He searched his protocols for inactive systems, and there it was.

 _Locked._

It was like poking a limb when he had slept on it for too long: it didn't respond, there was no feeling whatsoever. He tried to access the sub-system to no avail, it simply, stubbornly, remained closed. A bitter taste filled his mouth. He didn't want to _use_ them, just figure out what they were and how to _not_ accidentally turn them on. He'd always been shy of any tools the 'bots had used, whereas Miko was more than eager to try them. Heck, he'd pulled her away from them more times than he could count. With a huff, he concentrated on the files, not thinking of anything besides _where_ they were on his body.

He felt the plates on his arms become electric, like having goosebumps underneath the armor. They didn't move, and the feeling faded away within a second.

' _Okay, I might have guns there,'_ he figured he should have expected as much. Everyone seemed to have something stowed away in that area as far as he'd seen.

It was then he felt the same sensation at two points on his back. He could tell the plates there wanted to move, to do something. Open? Yeah, open. Something was inside, locked in his extra plating. He could tell that there was something hidden that could disengage or be removed, but what?

Jack paused, awakening from his meditative state and opening his optics. He knew cannons or blasters were common, but what was in his back? Without access to the systems, he wouldn't be able to tell.

Something in his head told him that was the reason everything was shut down. It was dangerous.

 _He_ was dangerous.

' _Of course,'_ the thought clicked into place. ' _They're not going to let someone with no training run around with weapons. Duh.'_

A soft creak pulled his attention to the door atop the hangar's catwalk where Fowler stood, hand still on the brass knob, staring at him with his mouth agape.

"Jackson?" He mouthed, pointing at the new mech with his free hand.

The blue and silver figure nodded slightly, giving a shy smile.

The man drew his hand to his face, likely muttering a string of colorful words, before he shut the door and walked as quietly as he could on the metal catwalk. He rushed over, his suit coat flapping a bit as his shoes clicked against the floor. With a final nervous step, he came to stop in front of the medical berth.

"You free to talk?" He asked in a low rasp, eying the sleeping Autobots on the other side of the hangar. "Want to watch the sunrise?" He shoved his hands in his pockets, fumbling a bit before pulling out some keys to the hangar's doors.

Jack warily stared at his pedes again. He wasn't sure if he could stand yet, and he didn't want to put Fowler in danger. Yet the urge to get out of this hangar was eating at his common sense, and damn it, he might as well try.

He lightly put his feet back on solid ground, careful to avoid the man. As he did so, he felt the hydraulics engage in his legs, something that hadn't happened before. With a push, he stood up, and _oh god he was so high up and Fowler was so far down_ -

"Whoa," he caught the man murmuring. "How's the view from up there?"

Jack just gave a nervous chuckle, "it's uh, really different."

The agent knit his brows together, "they change- nevermind, let's go." He turned on his heel briskly to open the large door at the front of the hangar. The shutters rattled a bit, but not too loud, though Jack could _feel_ Arcee staring at him now, awakened by the noise. He knew he was going to get an earful from her later, but that could wait.

"Come on," Fowler waved him over, an expectant tone in his voice.

The mechling stood, and without thinking, started walking.

Two things got his attention: how easy the motion was, and he was _silent_. Here he was, nearly thirty feet tall and made of metal, and he was more quiet than the man who'd gone before him. He felt the hydraulics and dampeners in his legs and waist flexing and contracting just as easily as his muscles once did, but now, feeling them in motion, he realized there were more of them. _Much_ more.

' _Huh, makes sense. How else are you going to support a multi-ton robot?'_

He reached Fowler, who asked a whispered "how'd you do that" as they went outside into the soft pre-dawn glow.

The base was still, a few patrol jeeps rumbling off in the distance as they did their patrols, but all soldiers were noticeably absent. The warm gold of the sun's rays were inching into the violet sky, chasing away the cool night, and painting the gray buildings with dashes of light on their roofs.

"Your voice is different," the man spoke softly as they looked over the landscape.

"Most of me is different," he grimaced.

"I guess, I just hope not the important things."

"Never."

"Good."

"How's mom?"

"She's not taking this well," Fowler sighed. "We sent her back home a few days ago, when you first were removed from the tank. She just," he looked up at the new mech, and Jack noted the red in his eyes. He looked exhausted, the creases in his face more pronounced than usual. "She wouldn't stop crying."

Jack felt like something inside him broke, and he wondered if Cybertronians cried.

"I think she needs time," he went on. "Heck, I think we all do."

"I'm sorry," the youth replied, unable to think of what else to say. "I'm so fucking sorry."

A warm hand was placed on his leg, "it's okay kid, none of this, we just,-"

"Don't know what to do."

"Yeah." An uneasy pause stretched between them. "And that's why, I uh, damn it," Fowler looked down at the ground. "They want you to go with them back to Cybertron, and I think you should."

Jack said nothing, resisting the urge to scream as if felt like someone just ripped his heart out. "What?"

"Look," Fowler turned back up to face him, but the mechling refused to meet his gaze. "I don't want you drafted as a government agent or war machine, because those are my orders from the Pentagon. You cannot stay here, because they _will_ try to coerce you into doing what they tell you, and I refuse to let that happen to you."

"I was going to join Unit E when I-"

"As an assistant! As council, not a soldier! You were given basic training tests, and quite frankly, you _all_ failed. Now we know you did because of that thing in your chest making you fall behind, but I'd consider it a blessing in disguise."

"So you want me to go live on an alien planet that I do not know-"

"I want you to have a life!" The man raised his voice, which echoed a bit across the concrete landscape. "If you stay, you'll have that taken from you. At least there you can choose what you want to do."

"I don't feel like I have a choice right now."

"You don't, we've already talked with Prime about this."

"What the fuck," Jack hissed through clenched denta. A slight heat building at the two points in his back before he felt it forcibly shut off. "Can I at least say goodbye to everyone?"

"No, you're leaving today," Fowler stated. "We've rigged all of the data Ratchet's collected to be destroyed after you go. The entire base is in on it. Jack, no one wants a kid-"

"I'm a legal adult! I can make my own choices!"

"And would you actively choose to stay knowing you might be sent to foreign countries to kill people?" The man countered, "would you go into a village, looking for terrorists, only to end up shooting civilians? Because that's what I did! _And I live with that every goddamn day of my life!_ " The anger and shame in his words was palpable. " _Boy_ , you do _not_ understand what you'd be getting into, and _I_ do. _Prime_ does, hell, every single one of the 'bots and soldiers on this base does! So yes, right now, you do _not_ have a choice. But believe me, it's not like you'd have one here anyways! You and I both know you _wouldn't_ choose this!"

With that, the man turned away and stomped off, rubbing his face as he went.

Jack thought he heard him sniffling as a familiar tingle ran up the back of his head.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"The entire time," Arcee replied as she came to stand beside him. "I'm surprised he didn't wake up the base with his shouting."

"Are we actually leaving?" He hated how his voice cracked at the end of the question.

"Yeah," the femme sighed. "I wish we didn't have to, that it didn't come to this."

"Why? What's going on?"

"He got those orders in the middle of the night a bit ago, when you were still calibrating," she explained. "We were just telling everyone you were okay when he burst into the room, furious and, well, scared. We _all_ were when told us what was going on."

The mech stared at the warming sky, watching the last few stars as they were washed away by the sun's rays.

"You've seen what we do, Jack, you've been in _our_ fights, but could you imagine doing that to your own people?"

"No," he rasped. "I don't want to hurt anyone."

"That's what we thought, you even said as much."

"I did?"

"Yeah, like Ratchet said, you were awake during calibrations," she chuckled. "It was kind of funny that out of everything going on and everyone arguing, you picked up on _that_ fact."

"Oh." He felt a heavy load of guilt settle into his shoulders. "I owe Fowler an apology."

"He knows, he's just worried."

"Guess we're both not good with goodbyes."

"Never been my strong suit either."

He cracked a smile at that. "So, when are we going?"

"As soon as Ratchet's done transferring and backing up the data he's collected."

The pair stood in their usual silence as the base started to come alive. A few strange looks were thrown their way, but they were mostly ignored by the crowds of soldiers and workers as they began their daily duties.

"So, do you know what my weapons are? They're blasters, right?" He eventually asked to fill the air and cut through the tension.

"To be honest, we couldn't figure it out," she shrugged. "Whatever you've got it's operating on a higher intensity and frequency than normal, so it has some serious armor-piercing potential. That also means it'll drain your energy faster. We locked it down until we've got a better set-up to see what they really are. My guess is that they're some sort of cannon, but I'm not an expert like Wheeljack or Ultra Magnus. Light weaponry is more my strong suit, not the bigger stuff like what the Wreckers or heavier frames use."

"I thought I was more along the lines of 'Bee and Smokescreen?"

"Jack, I'm a two-wheeler, so that's still above my grade," she snarked. "And I don't know what you are."

"Makes the both of us."

"I do know one thing though."

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to be the one asking _you_ for rides now."

He couldn't help but laugh at that, and the femme stifled a light snicker.

"Come on," she elbowed his thigh. "Let's see if we're all set to go."

He followed her lead back inside the hangar, where Ratchet was waiting, hands clenching and unclenching as he shifted a bit.

"I heard shouting," he looked at the mechling, who just nodded.

"Yeah, it was a little rough."

"Are you okay?"

"I don't know, but it's not like I have time to figure it all out."

"You will," the reply sounded like a firm promise. "But we have to get there first." With that said, he went over to the Spacebridge and activated it.

The green and white maw of the vortex opened and Jack found his legs frozen. He was leaving.

Leaving.

 _Gone._

He didn't even get to say goodbye to his mom.

Now wonder she'd been crying non-stop.

She'd _known_.

"This isn't going to be the last time you see everyone here," Arcee cut through his thoughts.

"I hope that's true."

She took one of his servos in her own, and he idly was distracted by the size difference of their digits. She squeezed lightly, "I promise."

The scout let go and walked over to the dimensional rift, giving him a signal to follow.

Jack looked at Ratchet, who nodded. "The Cybermatter, the data, everything else has already been sent through. It's our turn now."

The mechling vented with a shudder, and wordlessly walked to the portal as the medic fell in step beside him.

The trio entered, and with a flash, they were gone.

The bridge closed behind them.

The sunlight filtered into the empty hangar, tinting the empty space gold as Fowler emerged from where he'd been observing in the shadows. He wiped his face, tears stinging his eyes. "Y'all better take care of that boy," he spoke to himself as he made his way to his office. "Else I'm going there myself to kick your tin-can asses."


	6. Chapter 6: Initiation

**Chapter 6: Initiation**

* * *

The electric hum of the air was warm and pleasant; the sunlight draped across the glinting towers of Iacon, spilling prismatic reflections on the reborn city. The metallic structures reached into the sky like pillars to uphold the vast and open blue that pierced through the thin spots of clouds. The city streets were thriving with activity; workers and volunteers were off to their job sites to help raise and repair structures, or oversee the clerical work of registering and aiding new arrivals and refugees.

Autobot and Decepticon alike, they were working together. Everyone was desperate to move on. Remnants of both factions were on the patrols and integration committees, working at all hours to aid as many as they could. In the past few weeks, a sense of newfound determination seemed to have blossomed within the re-integrated citizens.

They wanted to make change, to remake and better what was left of their world.

In the beginning, many had been hesitant to work together. However, the Prime had no disillusions about their struggle.

Both sides had been responsible for atrocities in the war; if they judged too harshly now, they risked rekindling conflict. Quarrels were common, but thankfully none had escalated too far.

Therefore it was tentatively peaceful.

Yet from where he stood in the large window of his personal office, Optimus Prime was plagued with worry.

Today was the day Arcee and Ratchet were coming home, and Jack was leaving his. The young charge would surely be terrified; integrating the youth into Cybertronian culture would have been difficult even before the war, let alone alongside the rebuilding effort. He had no reference point of their world or way of life, and the ravages of war and time had laid waste to most of what had remained on their planet. He'd be experiencing everything while it was still volatile and tense, and the Prime loathed that notion.

He wished it wasn't so, that they'd made more progress, that there was just a bit more _time_.

But humans were mercurial by nature in the best of circumstances, and the luxury of time was not something the boy had.

And now, upon learning that his own people had wanted to use him as a weapon-

The Prime felt his servos clench tightly into fists. He had to vent a deep breath in order to dismiss the anger.

No, he should not dwell on that, the boy was coming here to avoid that fate. He should not be greeted with pity, but with acceptance. It would be challenging, but the boy was a child of Cybertron now, and would be made to feel welcome in his new home.

Optimus shuttered his optics and focused, intuitively opening the channel between he and the Matrix. He stood silently, bathed in the brilliant daylight, as a calm warmth spread through his chassis. He fell into the familiar, deep trance.

 _There was nothing._

 _Then susurrus voices would whisper lightly; traces of thoughts lost in time and held together by the Matrix. The deeper he fell in, the more clearly he could tell the words and their owners apart._

 _Then came their auras._

 _Some were soft, entreating and kind. Others stoic and stern. A few were domineering and thunderous. All of them were intense, nearly corporeal in their presence alone. A few reached out to give welcome, waves of joy mixing into his own field and entangling into his being as he ventured further._

 _Yet he passed all of that, seeking something else, only to come to the boundary of the vast plane._

 _Echoes of a distant Spark's steady beat reached across the space between the tenuous connections, and the Prime smiled._

He opened his optics, awakening to the real world once more and graced with the sight of Iacon in its new glory.

Indeed, this too would have challenges, but he knew they would overcome them.

A soft knock came from the door to his office. "Sir?" Ultra Magnus's voice called from the other side, "they're about to come through."

Optimus slowly shifted on his pedes, taking a long, lingering look at the shining city before turning away to join the others in wait. He stepped over to the threshold, opening it to see his second in command standing patiently, though an eager light glimmered in the depths of his hardened optics.

"Then let us not keep the others waiting," the red mech nodded towards the other, who responded in kind and led the way back down the silver halls of the base.

"I'm not sure if it's my place to ask," the blue mech began as they wound through the corridors. "But what will we do with the mechling?"

"That we will decide after letting him adjust."

"No, I meant ' _what do we tell people who ask about him?'_ " He halted, looking upwards at the Prime's face. "There haven't been Sparklings since the Well went dark, and new life hasn't started emerging yet. He'll attract attention, and he's unskilled. I fear he may accidentally become a target."

Optimus paused, surprised by the other's statement. It was unlike Magnus to show worry of any kind, his demeanor usually steely and determined even under immense pressure. Then again he'd softened in his recent time with the Team, their mannerisms slowly weaving into his own.

"I'd like to train him," the officer announced. "He should at least know how to defend himself."

"While I agree with your reasoning and appreciate your concern, the answer on that matter ultimately should come from Jack."

"But-"

"Magnus, it is not up to us to choose for him," the Prime chided softly. "You may offer him the opportunity, but please respect his right to refuse."

"I understand, sir, but that still only answers half of my question."

"I feel everyone should discuss that, for both consistency and transparency."

"Very well," the blue mech relented and resumed his stride.

The Prime hummed thoughtfully, knowing that his old friend was not entirely convinced. However he could not afford to dwell on that any longer, as the time of arrival was drawing closer, and he did not want to be late to see his companions returning home.

A light, excited energy permeated the air as the pair rounded the final corner to join the members of the Team that had already gathered in the large, silver room. The Spacebrige hummed pleasantly as its swirling maw of colors threw cool light onto the walls and control consoles.

Smokescreen paced a bit, his EM field practically simmering with anticipation while he waited beside Bumblebee, whose wings kept twitching subtly every few seconds. The Wreckers stood off to the other side of the room, close together and quietly chatting. Bulkhead offered a small grin towards the officers while Wheeljack simply acknowledged them with a nod.

The younger members snapped out of their more jovial exchange and stood straighter, relaxing when they got a slight signal from the larger mechs.

The Prime couldn't help but smile. Everyone was here, at ease, and for once the tension in the air between them was positive. It was a pleasant change from the strenuous positions they normally endured in their daily efforts to reconnect and rebuild their barren world. Though they were tired, this homecoming had a tangible happiness about it.

His EM field spread out to fill the space like a warm undercurrent. Bulkhead and Bumblebee immediately mellowed: the scout's wings ceased their flickering and settled into an eased position, whereas the Wrecker's posture softened. Ultra Magnus was resolute and unchanged, though he did allow his shoulders to drop ever so slightly. Smokescreen halted his pacing, instead slightly shifting on his pedes in anticipation. Wheeljack smirked and leaned closer into his friend at his side.

It was then they arrived.

The green and violet spiral buzzed as Arcee emerged first, her slender build walking out of the vortex at a comfortable gait. She gave a kind grin and small wave before turning back towards the bridge. Ratchet exited next, followed by the final figure.

"By the Forge of Solus Prime," Bumblebee muttered low as a blue and silver mech followed closely behind the medic.

His stride was undeniably Jack's: the way he moved smoothly, how he held his shoulders slightly bowed, but otherwise stood straight. Even his bright cyan optics had the same reserved, guarded quality that the boy possessed.

Yet it was still hard to reconcile that the figure was once human.

The light from the vortex caught the edges of his armor and frame, belying the thick plating and shapely nature of it all. For one so young, he was _massive._

 _::Well, what do you know? Looks like Magnus was right after all.::_ Wheeljack's comment rang out on the shared internal comm lines. _::That's a close-combat build if I've ever seen one. The kid might actually be a knight.::_

Optimus hummed, agreeing with the assessment. There was no denying that the mechling in front of them had been forged into such a frame. Being familiar with his personality, the Prime thought it was fitting.

"Arcee, Ratchet, I am glad you are both safe," the red mech offered a sincere greeting as he took a few steps towards them. "And Jackson, welcome to our home."

"Glad to be back," the femme replied as the portal shut. The noise made the mechling behind her flinch before he met the larger mech's gaze.

"Thank you," he gave a grateful grin, though his optics betrayed him.

 _He was scared._

A twinge of hurt flickered through the older mech's Spark, though he empathized with the youth's anxiety. He tried to tangle his field into the boy's own, only to find it absent.

 _That_ was a bit worrisome.

Ratchet cleared his throat, "if I may be excused, I have some data I need to process. I'll be done shortly." The urgency in his tone was evident, and Optimus knew better than to argue with him in this state. He gestured his approval, and the white and red bot strode off.

"Aww, come on! You just got back, Doc." Wheeljack called after him.

"Work is never done!" Came the gruff reply.

"I should get back to the grind too," Arcee sighed from where she stood next to her charge.

"I'll debrief with you in the conference room," Ultra Magnus said before turning on his heel.

The femme chuckled, patted Jack's leg, then walked after her commanding officer.

The mechling stood a bit awkwardly; it was always slightly humorous seeing a larger frame trying to fold on themself in an effort to go unnoticed.

"Jackson," the Prime started. "Would you come with me?"

He straightened up a bit, still nervous from all of the optics trained on him. "Sure," he responded quietly.

Optimus led him out of the chamber, having to glance behind to see if he was following along in the corridors. The mechling was right at his side, though he made no noise as he moved. Combined with his lack of an EM field, he was nearly undetectable.

 _Curious._

The poignant silence between them became a bit strained, so the older Autobot decided to break it.

"Have you been well?"

"Honestly, I don't think anything has really hit me yet," the youth murmured. "So much has changed. The air _hums_ , or it's _charged_. I can still feel my fingertips even though they're entirely different but it's still so familiar. Everything in me still feels the same but it's not. _I don't get it_." He vented a shallow breath as they came to the door of the Prime's office. "I don't know how I'll get used to it."

A sharp pain nipped at the Prime's Spark. "Time may remedy that, though I'm sure it will still be a struggle."

"I know, I just, I don't know where to start. It feels like it's everything all at once."

The threshold opened, and the pair quietly stepped inside the calm room. Jack audibly gasped when he saw the view from the window, cyan eyes locked on the city showered in light.

"I never thought this place could be so beautiful," Jack gaped in reverence.

"This is Iacon," Optimus rumbled as he studied the city in the distance. "It was my home before the war, and one of the last cities to fall before all of Cybertron was lost. I must agree, it is beautiful; although different from its past, it has been born anew and will thrive in time. It, along with the rest of our world, is healing."

"Looks like we've got that in common."

The larger of the pair smiled at the humor. "Indeed, and you're not the only one. All of us are adjusting to this new way of life."

"Has it at least been easier for you now that the war is over?"

"I'd hesitate to say ' _easy'_ though ' _quiet'_ may be more appropriate," the red mech stepped closer to the grand window. "Many have found it strenuous adapting to a life without war. It is something even I am not used to after such a long time."

"Oh," the younger mech mumbled as he came to stand beside him.

Another silence fell, though this one was much more content. The Prime allowed his field to dominate the space, and the youth beside him flinched as if he'd been struck. He folded his arms over his chest, a few plates along his frame pulling in slightly, his body unconsciously treating the gentle nudge like a physical blow and readying itself for an attack. Bit by bit, the mechling slowly relaxed, ultimately regaining composure and allowing the serene sub-frequencies to work their way into his systems.

"Is that you?"

"Yes."

"It feels different than Arcee. Or Ratchet."

"Part of it is the presence of the Matrix."

"About that." Something in Jack's tone made the Prime turn to regard him. The smaller figure was staring down at his pedes, and looked like he was struggling to string a sentence together.

"Did you know about," the mechling brought a servo to his chest. "This," he tapped a finger lightly, indicating the Spark beneath the thick plating. "Did...did you know that this would happen?" There was fear in his bright optics as he looked up, and Optimus felt a heavy weight settle into his shoulders.

"I knew of your Spark from the moment its embers were lit within you, as I was there."

The new mech went quiet and still, questions playing out on his face although he made no attempt to voice them.

"I could not stop it," the Prime vented. Raising a servo to his own chassis, the plates moved aside and allowed him to reach in and remove the Key to Vector Sigma. It glowed with an intensity that filled the room, reflecting the light of his own Spark before settling back to its dormant state as his plating folded closed once more. "The Matrix resonated with you."

He held the Key out towards the younger mech as he spoke, where it flashed a vibrant blue and started glowing in time with his now thriving Spark. It pulsed with his heartbeat, which was quickened with anxiety.

" _Why?"_ His voice cracked with hurt as he stared at the relic.

"At the time, I thought it was out of necessity," Optimus admitted. "With Unicron beginning to stir and threaten your world, I knew what had to be done. The Key needed to be with one who would neither fall prey to the temptation of its power, nor to one who would be unable to withstand it."

The mechling raised his optics.

"I do not know for certain why it chose you, Jack. Yet I am grateful that it did."

"You were _Orion Pax_ when I was getting the Matrix."

"The Matrix holds the memories and minds of _all_ the Primes," Optimus asserted. "I was as much present in Vector Sigma as the others; I saw what happened," he paused as guilt built up in his mouth. "In a way, I too played a role in doing this to you. For all the pain I have-"

"It's not your fault," the boy cut in. "You didn't know. I didn't know. We're just…"

The pair elapsed into silence, Optimus replacing the Key in his chassis as Jack went back to looking out the window. He theorized the youth did not want to see the relic after learning of its full impact, though he still felt an echo of the other's Spark once it was slipped back among his own plates.

"I don't blame you," the mechling finally whispered. "I don't blame anyone, I just want to know _why_."

"Then we will find out together," the Prime placed a servo on the younger mech's shoulder. He was surprised that Jack leaned into the contact, he'd expected him to pull away after a few seconds. Yet he remained still, eyes locked on the horizon as if seeking answers in the vast distance.

A rapid, percussive knocking on the door jolted both of the pair from their introspection.

"Ratchet says he's done with the data," Smokescreen's voice came from the other side of the metallic gate. "And he wants us all there, not sure why though."

Jack vented deeply, folding his arms across his chest.

The Prime could sympathize with his discomfort.

"Why isn't this private?" The youth muttered low as he walked towards the door.

"We've yet to discuss a cover for you, most of which is reliant on information we simply do not have yet."

The boy shuddered, but made no other protest.

The pair left the office, and again Optimus was perplexed by the lack of sound he made as they tread down the halls towards Ratchet's lab. Not even Arcee or Bumblebee were completely mute as they traversed the halls, it truly was a novel thing he'd yet to encounter.

The lab was mostly filled once they arrived, the Prime having to duck down slightly in order to enter through the doorway. A pleasant humming from all the operational machines provided a backdrop to the space. Arcee was already waiting, stationed over by the corner with Ultra Magnus, nearest one of the cleaned examination tables. The young guardsman was also present, and he came right over to the blue and silver mechling and pulled him into a brief half-hug, before choosing to remain at his side.

The rest of the Team trickled in as the medic made his way to a large console with a screen that took up an entire wall. Ratchet typed something on the keyboard, and three different wavelength displays were revealed to the on-lookers. Each one had Cybertronian glyphs labeling it, along with the peaks and valleys. The white and red mech then briskly walked over to a table, producing a strange device to sit on top of it.

"I'm sure this is somewhat uncomfortable for us all, so I'll try to be as straightforward and non-invasive as possible," he began with a huff. He pointed to the first display, "Jack's Spark is either Vitreous-Positive or Ferrum-Negative; the frequencies it gives off are too intense to isolate and detangle right now, but what I _can_ tell is that he's a load-bearer." He pointed to each diagram in turn, "I won't be able to discern much from the wavelengths at this point in time, but his pattern is fairly consistent with other load-bearing Sparks I have encountered in the past."

"What does that mean?" The query came from the blue and yellow mech, who looked just as confused as the former human beside him.

"Simply put, they're strong Sparks capable of supporting large frames and withstanding high-stress."

"Both Optimus and I are load-bearers," Ultra Magnus shared.

"It's likely why you don't make too much noise," the medic turned to the youngest in the room. "Your dampeners are supposed to be supporting much more weight than you currently have." Ratchet smirked, "expect growing pains," he stated bluntly to the youth.

Jack looked down at his pedes with a small groan. A few snickers and laughs resounded sporadically in the room at the reaction.

"Continuing on, he's not armed in a typical fashion," the large screen flickered to reveal a few different schematics. A clawed canister or gauntlet with Energon lines coursing through it, and a projected circle enclosing a limited space.

"Those are shield generators," Wheeljack stared at the screen and then glanced at the mechling. "But if he has shields, then-"

The screen flickered again, showing the thick plating along the boy's back. "Those are scabbards," the medic pointed to a hidden seam. "He has Energon Edges stowed away in his inner frame." A new image came up, one depicting a handle channeling a high-frequency blade made entirely of light.

"Weren't those outlawed?" Bumblebee called from where he stood alongside Bulkhead.

"But don't you guys have swords?" Jack's plating pulled in defensively, "they're not that bad, are they?"

"Those aren't just swords," the white Wrecker removed one of his own blades. "This is metal: this can be broken or blocked. That-" he pointed to the screen "-is a blade made of a concentrated, super-heated, light projection. Think 'laser scalpel' but capable of cutting off entire limbs. Your entire weapons array is entirely based on light and frequency disruption or projection. That stuff pierces armor without much effort."

"Alright, so they're illegal. What do I do them?"

"It means weapons training is going to be fun."

Ultra Magnus cleared his throat with a disapproving glare.

The warrior shrugged off the admonishment, sheathing his own sword and nodding for the medic to carry on.

"This last one is a bit more troubling," Ratchet turned back to the console and shut off the screen. "I think it's best explained with a demonstration." He gestured towards the device on the table in front of him. "This is a frequency replicator, it's most often used as a method of calming Sparklings during exams, as you can copy EM fields with them."

"So why have it out right now?" Bulkhead rumbled, staring at the machine with an unimpressed frown.

"Because, Bulkhead, I'm sure you've all noticed Jack's lack of an EM field. Well, I-I shut it off."

The room nearly froze at that statement.

He went on before the accusatory questions started. "I'm sure you all know who this field belongs to," with a quick press of a digit, the machine whirred to life.

A soft, heavy presence emanated from the machine, settling into the atmosphere of the lab. A warmth worked its way into the atmosphere and seemed to remove the tension, replacing it with a thick calm. But the power that seemed to simmer at the bottom was the most identifiable part.

A majority of those present subconsciously relaxed, whereas Optimus shifted on his pedes with an arched optic ridge. "Ratchet, what is the meaning of this?"

"I needed to provide some context." He switched the machine off, and the feeling subsided as he plugged in a few tweaks. "That was yours, Optimus, and this is Jack's."

A swirling, gentle sensation ebbed and flowed into the air, just a second before a comforting gravity settled underneath it.

But then came the same, powerful intensity from a few moments before.

Everyone now understood why the boy's field had been suppressed.

Ratchet drummed his digits against the table as he clicked the machine off. "Now, _we_ know that his Spark came from Vector Sigma, but anyone else will wonder why a _child has the presence of a Prime_." He took a shuddering breath, "this would certainly cause trouble, so I've switched it off."

Optimus put his hand on the back of Jack's helm lightly. "Would you please turn that frequency on again?" He stared at the replicator with narrowed optics. A quality of the field was too familiar to just be from the boy; no, there was something else within the frequencies that masked or emulated another as well.

"Certainly."

A button was pressed, and the machine hummed as it clicked back on.

The Prime closed his optics, opening the connection to the Matrix. He delved through their auras, a realization dawning over him as one stood out amongst the rest. "While it may feel similar to my own, a more apt comparison would be from another Prime."

"And who would that be?" Wariness was thick within the physician's voice.

"The First," his thumb lightly grazed the back of the youth's head.

The room went deathly still.

 _"Prima."_


End file.
